


Necropolis

by RoughDraftHero



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Post-Apocalypse, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoughDraftHero/pseuds/RoughDraftHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has been dead for 36 years. There is a small population of humans. Most of them are insane. Good luck, Charlie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will not be continued here. When I update, it will be at fictionpress.com/~roughdrafthero

1.

Pallor Mortis

If someone were to see this man, this boy, they would not have thought any thing other then that he was enjoying the sun. He was leaning against the wall of a gas station, smoking a cigarette. His bleach-white hair was slicked back in a 50's style pompadour, several sleek strands of which were hanging out haphazardly over his forehead. He wore a leather jacket and tight denim jeans. He was a bit on the gaunt side, and his rusty aviator sunglasses hid his tired, blue eyes.

Now, if someone were to look closer, they would notice the broken windows on the gas station, the dust that coated the inside. They would have seen the entire wall, which was missing on the south side. The pumps had been destroyed long ago.

The gas station was decaying, and around it laid a ghost town of skeletons and other dilapidated structures. It had been a small town, when it had been alive. The people there used to call it Untolk, population: 300.

They were all dead now. For years the citizens of Untolk had been decomposing in their homes, or their skeletons had been bleached to pure white outside, under the desert sun.

The boy, well his name was Charlie. His mother had told him once that she grew up in a town called Untolk. She was ten when the first person died of the sickness. Charlie didn't remember this, he wasn't alive then. His mother was thirty when Charlie was born, twenty years to the day since his grandmother had succumbed to the illness. His mother took it as a sign, and named Charlie after her.

He could see now that coming here was pointless. The town was barely even a shell, the house that his mother grew up in was probably gone. He sighed as he glanced down the cracked pavement of Main Street. Everything was gone.

This is what he was used to though. Charlie did not know what the world was like when it was crowded with people, when every town was full and alive. The most people he had seen in a group at one time was his mother's clan…and they only numbered to forty-two. When his mother died, he took leave. There were no rules, and nothing to hold him back.

That was a year ago. He was sixteen now.

In his travels, he had only seen four people. One was slightly deranged, and the other three wanted nothing to do with him. Charlie supposed that they survived the sickness because this was a world tailor-made for them. These people inhabited their own little town each, and alone. When he had come upon each one, they gave him a meal, and then kindly sent him on his way.

This was fine in the New World. There was so much space, so many empty cities, that each person could have their own, however most chose to travel in clans…it tended to be safer, and you had the comfort of other humans.

Charlie didn't know how many people were alive in the New World, but he supposed that since he had only seen four in a year, that it couldn't be very much.

He sighed, and dropped his cigarette on the ground. That was his last one, and it barely even counted as a cigarette. His clan had made them for him as a going away gift. He flicked his hair out of his eyes, and looked out at the horizon, the burning desert.

It didn't register when he saw shapes. They were so far away, that Charlie supposed that it was just a mirage. He didn't move as the shapes started to take more realistic form, he just continued leaning against the wall with ease.

He soon saw they were men riding motorcycles, and one car following behind them. All of the men appeared rather gruff, and every single one of them had at least one firearm slung over their shoulder.

Charlie decided it was high time to slip inside the gas station, and hide in the shadows. He had been warned by his clan about these types. They were called marauders. They weren't very bright, but they had no qualms over hurting people to get what they want. Or just for fun.

He knelt down below a broken window, and kept his ears pealed, gripping his fists tightly as he heard the motors of the vehicles roar towards him. These men must have done something horrible to get so much petroleum to run those motors.

Charlie held his breath as he heard the kick stands being clicked out, and the car doors slammed shut.

The teenager heard some scuffling, a muffled yell, and then: "Put him in the station, we're gonna find some eats."

The voice was mean and dangerous. It made Charlie's hair stand on end. He covered his mouth with his hand, the leather of his jacket creaking, as he saw a person shoved into the station. Who ever it was, his arms were tied, as well his legs.

His hair was dark, and short. He was wearing a plain white tee shirt and jeans. If it had been a different situation, Charlie would have smiled at the fact that the boy also wore a ragged pair of red Converse All-Stars high tops. They were his mother's favorite brand of shoe. This was not the time to smile however. Charlie quickly scanned the area, decided that it was all clear, and scooted towards the boy.

The boy flinched as Charlie laid a hand on his shoulder. He had been shoved on his side, so Charlie rolled him onto his back, and gasped.

The boy had a beautiful face, which was marred by a black eye. Charlie imagined it must have been hard to get a punch in, because although the boy was young, he was taller than Charlie and quite muscular. This was especially strange considering how hard it is to get nutritional food in the New World.

His good eye was staring up at Charlie with surprise. It was a golden-brown, and blended nicely with the boy's light mocha colored skin. Charlie's hand looked deathly pale against the healthy glowing tone of the boy's shoulder.

The boy's mouth was covered with a strip of duct tape. Charlie grabbed a corner, and quickly ripped it off, causing the boy to wince.

"What's your name?" Charlie whispered, as if they had all the time in the world. The boy had a frustrated frown on his face, "Cut me loose!" he snapped in an urgent hiss. This biting tone pushed Charlie into reality, and he slipped his old Swiss army knife out of his back pocket.

He barely had time to slice the cord around the boy's arms when he felt a rough hand grab the collar of his jacket, and drag him away from the boy. In his surprise, he dropped the knife, and was wildly swinging his arms around, trying to break the man's grip on him.

Outside was his worse nightmare. Three men were waiting for their fourth man. They were leaning against their car, a beat up old station wagon, the color of which had faded long ago. It was now the color of rust… or dried blood.

"What do we have here?" said the man in the middle. Charlie immediately knew he was the leader. He wore all leather, and was completely bald. He looked to be about twenty-five. Like the boy tied up in the gas station, he looked well fed and muscular. Charlie tried to avoid thoughts of despair on how weak he was, surviving on canned food alone.

The leader's cronies were similar in appearance, and all four would have blended together except for the manic glow in the leader's eyes, which distinguished him from the other three.

He chuckled, watching Charlie tremble with fear. The boy had never been in a threatening situation such as this one, and he felt the need to piss his pants. He gulped as the leader walked forward.

The man stuck out his hand, and smiled, "The name is Wilcox son, what about you?"

"Charlie," the teenager whispered, not able to reach out his hand. Wilcox seemed able to dismiss this breach of etiquette.

"Charlie…" the man echoed as he placed his hand on a pistol, which was strapped on in a holster attached to his belt. He seemed to be pondering Charlie, wondering what to do with this young stranger.

"He was trying to cut the rat loose," the foul-breathed man who was still holding Charlie's collar rasped.

This news did not seem to affect Wilcox; he simply kept sizing Charlie up, roving over the teenager's body with his eyes. This made the teenager shift uncomfortably, he was not quite sure why.

"I bet's they're teamed together," Foul-Breath continued, "Had it all planned out to ambush us."

Wilcox sneered at this, "Don't be stupid Frog, this boy's never seen the rat in his life," he said. He shoved Frog's hand away from Charlie, and wrapped his beefy arm around the boy's shoulder, as if they were best buds.

"Say Charlie," Wilcox said, his words slurring slightly…he was drunk, "Say Charlie….Say Charlie…." He started to giggle, "Hey boys, me and Charlie are gonna grab a drink at the bar, you just stay put."

Charlie felt the pit of his stomach turn to ice as he saw the other three men exchange knowing leers. "Let us have a bite when you're done." Frog said, his eyes twinkling with malice. The teenager felt his mind go to autopilot as he felt Wilcox drag him towards the dilapidated bar.

"I doubt there's anything in there…" Charlie said, digging his feet into the dirt. This only made Wilcox guffaw and grip his wrist tighter, "We ain't goin for the booze Charlie, don't you get that?"

He smashed into the bar, knocking the degrading door off it's hinges. As he pulled Charlie inside, he chose a table, and walked over to it. Wilcox then slipped his hands under Charlie's armpits, and lifted him onto the table, as if the teenager were a small child.

Charlie was frozen as his legs dangled limply over the edge. Wilcox placed a hand on each side of the teenager and grinned.

"You ain't that pretty, but you'll do," he said. He fingered the gun at his side. "You ever been with a man, Charlie?"

The teenager shook his head no, "And I don't plan to," he said suddenly, making Wilcox raise his eyebrows with surprise.

"I'm afraid you don't have much say in the matter, friend." Wilcox said, smiling. Charlie felt a gnawing hatred in the back of his brain. He was able to survive a year on his own, he could handle this.

"Fuck off." Charlie said, glaring at the man. His blond hair had fallen in his eyes again.

This seemed to be the last straw for the drunk Wilcox. His face slowly melted into a disgusted glare. Charlie's eyes widened as he suddenly felt his air supply restricted. Wilcox had encircled the boy's neck with his hand.

"I think I've humored you long enough," he growled, "Time to pay the piper." He leaned forward and mashed his lips against Charlie's, and the teenager tasted the liquor, which the man had been drinking. He wanted to puke.

It seemed as if his knee was acting on it's own when he slammed it into Wilcox's groin. The man choked suddenly on his pain, and backed up, his veins popping against his temple. Charlie took his chance, and leapt off the table. He slammed his fist into the man's jaw, causing Wilcox to wheel around and fall to the ground.

Charlie breathed in and out, his vision blurring. He had never attacked a human being before, and now he felt exhilarated. He turned and placed his hands on the table, using the old wooden surface as support as his knees trembled. He glanced at his fingers, and saw that they were shaking. Everything exploded then. He heard a loud noise, and felt something blow by his face. He swung around and gasped.

Wilcox was standing just behind him. Only, there was a hole where Wilcox' face used to be. The man's lifeless body fell to the floor, and standing behind him in the doorway was the boy who was tied up in the gas station, standing in all of his blood-covered, gun-toting glory.

"Reg Kearny," he said blankly.

Charlie blinked. "What?" he said, trying to regain his wits.

"My name, you asked what my name was," the boy said coldly. He slipped his gun into its holster, and walked away.

Charlie's heart was still racing. It was the first time he really knew he was alive.

 


	2. Extinction

2.

Extinction

Charlie stared at the empty space of the doorway where the boy…Reg Kearny had just stood, and shot Wilcox. The blond teenager had little time to comprehend what had just happened. He quickly stepped over Wilcox's dead body, and rushed out to find the boy who had just saved his life.

The street was a scene of disaster. The three men who had accompanied Wilcox were all lying on the street, seemingly lifeless. One had his head bashed in, and the other two appeared to have been shot. Charlie wondered how he could have possibly missed the telltale noise of the gunshots. He must have been scared out of his wits by Wilcox, who was probably too drunk to notice the noise as well.

He glanced around and realized that Reg was nowhere in sight. He had to still be in Untolk…both motorcycles and the car were still sitting idly in the sun. Charlie considered just taking one of the cycles and high-tailing it out of there. He did not know if Reg was any safer than the four men who held him prisoner. Although…he had saved Charlie from Wilcox.

Charlie decided to look for the other teenager. At least he could thank the man. His bright blue eyes scanned the street as he wondered which store Reg had chosen to raid. He noticed that there was a tiny drugstore at the end of the street, and determined that Reg was probably in there.

The windows of the store were still intact, although they were so covered with dust, that it was hardly apt to call them windows. The door was missing entirely. Charlie winced as he walked by the pharmacy, and saw that there were several skeletons crumpled by the different medications. Those people died there as they desperately searched for some remedy to cure them of the sickness.

Charlie heard rustling from the clothing aisle, and quickly walked towards it, making sure to stomp his feet just loud enough so that Reg would not be surprised when he walked up, and do something like accidentally shoot Charlie.

The boy actually did not appear to care at all that Charlie was there. He was hunkered down, looking at the lowest rack, with his back to the gaunt teenager. He was trying to find a pair of gloves that had not disintegrated over the years. He had already put on a jean jacket, which made Charlie think that Reg was probably planning on taking one of the motorcycles. There was no other reason to wear a jacket in the desert heat.

"Um…Reg?" Charlie said, his voice cracking slightly from misuse.

The boy paused, and glanced up at Charlie. "What?" he snapped in a deep voice, as he turned back to his search.

Charlie blinked. He wasn't sure what.

"Well…" he said slowly, "I guess…thank you? For saving me."

Reg snorted, "I was just paying you back for leaving the knife."

A memory of his Swiss army knife slipping from his fingers flashed through Charlie's mind. He hadn't intentionally dropped the knife, but he didn't need to tell Reg that.

Charlie shifted back and forth on his feet. He was getting the feeling that Reg was one of those people who liked to be alone. He was not going to push conversation on someone who did not want to talk.

"Right well, thanks anyway Reg." he said, and turned to leave. He stopped by the food aisle, and stared forlornly at the cans of soup. There was so much food sitting in cans, but they were no longer edible. Thirty-six years had turned the contents into indistinguishable mush. Charlie's mother had told him how the survivors of the sickness were able to survive on the food for years after the epidemic, until someone finally died from food poisoning. They eventually taught themselves to farm with survival in mind, not in the way that the average person used to garden as a hobby. Days were spent canning the fruits of their labor, so that they could survive through the winter.

Charlie had eaten his last can of pear halves the day before. He frowned as he felt his stomach clench with pain, and emptiness. His mother had told him that the first generation, the ones that were alive before the sickness, had wasted the imperative first decade. They were scattered around the country, and there were very few people alive who knew a useful trade. In the current times, only two percent of the country was powered with electricity. Anyone who had the knowledge of how to operate a power station was treated like a god. Clans had gone to war over this special human commodity.

The boney teenager sighed. He had always wondered what spaghettiOs tasted like. He had eaten tomatoes before, but no one from his clan knew how to make noodles. Very rarely did they even have wheat.

Charlie shrugged to himself and made his way out of the drugstore. He squinted as e walked out into the desert heat, and wondered at what point during the recent skirmish did he lose his beloved Aviators. Those rusty sunglasses had belonged to his father, a man that Charlie would never meet. His mother had told him that George Harlin had died while trying to get petroleum from a gas station. This kind of death had been quite common.

The motorcycles were still standing by the station wagon. Charlie wondered why he thought it would be any different. He avoided the three bodies littered across the street, their blood drying in the sun. He walked over to the closest cycle, and blinked.

The tires were slashed, the air slowly leaking out of them. He looked over at the other cycle. Same story. He felt a slight annoyance twinge in his stomach. His Swiss army knife was lying, abandoned, by the second motorcycle. Reg had done this.

That was fine, Charlie decided. He did not know why the taciturn boy did this, considering he only needed one vehicle, but Charlie did not care. He quickly made his way for the station wagon. The handle was rusted, and grated as he pushed down the button. He glanced in with relief when he saw that the keys still hung in the ignition.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Charlie sighed. He should have realized that Reg would see him trying to take the car; it was his sort of luck. He gathered his courage, and turned to face the other boy.

Who, as it turns out, was pointing a gun straight at Charlie's head, much like he had pointed it at Wilcox's head. Reg's expression was unreadable, but his hand did not waver. He looked like a statue in denim.

Charlie's mouth curved down in a small frown. "You slash the tires on the motorcycles."

This comment garnered no reaction from Reg. His good eye were trained on Charlie's face, and once again the blonde teenager was struck by healthy the darker skinned teenager looked.

"….did you hear me?" Charlie asked after a moment of intense silence.

"I heard you state the obvious," Reg replied coldly, his brown eyes narrowing, "What I did not hear was an explanation for why you're trying to take off with my ride."

Charlie's finger twitched slightly with nerves. "Look…there's no good food here, and there's no other town for at least 50 miles…I'll die if I stay here." he said slowly.

This seemed to take a moment to sink in. Reg remained silent as he mulled over something in his mind. "I don't see why I should care," he said finally, but his arm was wavering. Charlie felt his heart sink. This boy was going to leave him here to die. He had used all of his food, all of his resources to find Untolk, the city of his mother, and he would die here.

Charlie opened his mouth to plead with Reg, when he noticed the teenager looking at something behind him, his brown eyes widening. "Shit," he muttered.

Charlie swung around, and saw in the distance that there were more shapes hurtling towards him. They were still far enough away to be obscure, but who knew how fast they were going, or how soon they would reach Untolk.

"Hey!" Reg yelled at him. Charlie turned back to the teenager and blanched when he saw that the dark haired teenager was now dragging Frog's body into the gas station. "Grab one of them!" Reg demanded, indicating the two other bodies.

"Why should I help you?" Charlie snapped obstinately. Something in Reg snapped at Charlie's tone. He strode over to the shorter teenager, and grabbed the back of Charlie's head by his slicked back hair. His face was clouded in anger, and he dragged Charlie towards him, so that their faces were centimeters apart.

"Do you want to die?" Reg growled, "Seriously, go ahead and be useless, I'll see you in Hell."

Charlie snarled, and shoved Reg away from him. "Fuck off," he said.

Reg sneered, and pointed at the shapes that were quickly drawing closer, "If those men find you and four of their dead buddies, they will do horrible things to you…they will make Wilcox look like Santa Fucking Claus."

Charlie's face darkened with confusion. "Who?" he asked, clueless.

Reg looked at Charlie with disbelief, and then snorted. "Never mind," he said, "Just grab a fucking body if you want to live."

Charlie listened this time and started to drag the smaller corpse towards the gas station. Halfway towards the decrepit building, he felt faint from the exertion. Reg made it look so easy. By the time he had finally got the rotting body inside, the other teenager had already wheeled both motorcycles to some undisclosed location. All that was visible on the street now was the rusty station wagon and several bloodstains that were only noticeable if you were looking for them.

Reg was jumping into the station wagon just as Charlie was walking out on to the street. The leather jacket clad teenager felt his stomach flip over, and he raced over to the car, screaming "Don't leave me here!" as he ran.

When Charlie reached the car, Reg threw him a disdainful glance. "Stop fucking whining," he said emotionlessly.

Charlie wanted to punch him. "Well?" he asked.

Reg motioned towards the passenger side of the car with his head, and Charlie needed no more encouragement. He raced around the car, jumped in and slammed the door shut. As soon as the lock clicked on the door, Reg burned rubber, and they flew off towards the opposite direction from the men coming behind them.

There was a tense few minutes, however the shapes eventually disappeared from the horizon in the rear-view mirror. Reg sighed in relief, and closed his eyes for a second. He was finally free.

"Don't think I'll take you with me forever," he said to this strange gaunt fellow next to him. There was no answer. Reg turned to repeat himself, but stopped short when he saw that the blonde was asleep, exhausted from the small amount of work that he did. His face was calmer, and he had a peaceful air about him, as a few strands of blonde hair fell into his face.

Reg dismissed these thoughts as he slid the sunglasses that the kid had dropped on to his face. He rolled down the window, and let the desert air blow into his face. "That was quite a jam we were in.," he said to the sleeping Charlie, "Good thing you had that knife."

He glanced over at the teenager again, and then looked back at the road, his face calm. He had never met anyone who was able to fall asleep in his presence. They were too cautious for that. 'Trust' was not a word used where Reg Kearny came from.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When Charlie woke up, he had a surreal moment of confusion. He had slid over to the left, so that his body was resting against Reg, and his head was snuggled into the crook of the other teenager's neck. There was a strange but pleasurable noise flitting through the air…it was music, but Charlie could not figure out where it was coming from.

Also, Reg had his right arm wrapped around Charlie's shoulders. That was strange. Charlie remained still, and kept his breathing even as he tried to regain his bearings. Reg was absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb up and down, caressing the leather of Charlie's jacket.

Charlie decided the best thing to do was to shuffle slightly, and make "just entering consciousness" noises. As he did this, Reg smoothly removed his arm, and pushed Charlie into the upright position.

The blonde teenager stretched his arms up and yawned. He was not going to spend much brainpower trying to figure out why Reg had been holding him, it wasn't important. "How long was I asleep?" Charlie asked as he rubbed the blurriness out of his eyes.

"Two hours." Reg replied in a clipped voice.

This took a moment to register. "Two hours…" Charlie mumbled, and then turned to Reg, "But the closest city to Untolk in this direction is Mervin, and that's only fifty miles away."

Reg was silent; his face was a blank slate. He kept his eyes trained on the road.

"…and we're going faster than sixty." Charlie said, pointing at the speedometer.

"I went through Mervin already," Reg replied.

Charlie waited for the punch line. There was none. "Why didn't you stop?" he asked.

"There's no food there." Reg replied.

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed, and then he realized something. "You're wearing my sunglasses," he said flatly.

The other teenager did not reply.

"Look," Charlie said, getting angry now, "You obviously find me annoying, and I'm kind of pissed that you took my Aviators, so why the hell did you go straight through Mervin?" He was wondering about the sanity of Reg.

"That hick town was smaller than Untolk," Reg replied, "There's no food there."

"Now wait a min-" Charlie started to say, but was interrupted.

"Would you just shut up?" the dark haired teenager asked, a slight bite of annoyance slicing through his voice. His hand was now resting threateningly on the holster at his hip.

Charlie bit his lip with anger, deciding that it was wise not to annoy the person in the car who had a gun. He looked out the window on his side, and started to formulate a plan. Reg would have to stop eventually, the gas would run out.

They drove in silence for another two hours. The tape player in the car had long since teetered out of working condition. Charlie had the urge to ask Reg who had played the music coming from the car, but he got the feeling that the other teenager was not in a talking mood.

Eventually another building sprouted out in the distance. As it drew nearer, Charlie saw that it was what the old world called a hotel. The sign that used to reach up to the sky for drivers on the interstate had collapsed, and lay in a rusty heap besides the actual building.

"Come on." Reg said as he ambled out of the car, "We can sleep here for tonight." Charlie only paused for a second, and then followed the taller teenager. It was not the time yet. He looked around the motel, the outside of which was in shambles. The structure looked secure however. Reg had walked off purposely, headed towards room eleven. Charlie wondered why his deranged new friend seemed so intent on that room.

The answer presented itself when they stepped inside. Instead of being a mess, covered in dust or filled with the skeletons that could be found everywhere, it was in tip-top shape. Most curious was that the electricity was working, something that became obvious when Reg flipped on the lights. Charlie sighed with pleasure when he felt the air conditioning, which seemed to amuse Reg.

"This is amazing…" Charlie said with awe, in despite of himself. Reg allowed himself a small chuckle; the oddest things impressed this blonde stranger.

The darker-skinned teenager yawned, making him realize just how exhausted he was. He slipped off his shirt, and lay down on the bed. "You sleep on the floor," he said to Charlie.

"Fine," the boy said with a shrug. It would be easier to get away that way, no disturbing Reg as he slid off the bed. He turned around, and threw his jacket on the chair beside the window, and then pulled his shirt off as well.

He felt Reg's eyes burning into his back. "What?" he asked without turning around. There was no reply. Charlie craned his neck around, and saw that Reg was gawking at him. It was the first time the blonde had seen Reg shocked.

He glared at him, "What?" he repeated.

Reg's eyes were roving along Charlie's chest. "You're…skin and bones," he said quietly. He could not look away.

Charlie glanced down at himself. The outlines of his ribs were visible…but this was no different from anyone in his clan. He nervously rubbed his stomach. "It's not that bad," he said as he looked up.

Only, Reg was no longer on the bed. He had moved over to a cabinet that was against the wall, and was shuffling through its contents. He made a small noise of triumph, and pulled out a glass jar. Incased in the container was a surplus of beans. He twisted open the jar, and poured the beans into a bowl. His final act of culinary expertise was to stick the bowl into a microwave that was sitting on the cabinet.

Charlie gasped and rushed over to the appliance, placing his hand on the top. The vibration and heat made him giggle with joy. His eyes lit up when the timer dinged. Reg felt a strange warmth in his chest when he saw Charlie's reaction to the microwave; he wondered how the blond teenager would react to the hot beans.

He couldn't help it. "Just wait," he said with a small smile. Charlie looked up at him with wonder as Reg pulled the bowl out of the microwave, and handed it to Charlie, along with a spoon. On first bite, Charlie practically melted. The food was so…filling, it made him feel more solid. He finished the beans in two minutes flat.

"That was…thank you." Charlie said, "I've never known what it's like to be full."

Reg blushed slightly with pride. He had never provided for someone before without expecting something in return. "You're welcome," he said. His eyelids started to droop as he recalled how tired he was. "You can sleep on the bed as well," he said.

Something flashed unhappily in Charlie's eyes, which Reg noticed. He chose not to ask what was wrong. He slid on to the bed, under the covers. Charlie shifted awkwardly on his feet. Reg had lain down in the middle of the bed.

"What?" the dark haired teenager asked.

Charlie shrugged, and slid under the covers as well, taking the left side. Reg was so close that the blonde could feel his body heat. Charlie wondered how he would get out now. Perhaps Reg would just let him leave? He hadn't actually said that Charlie had to stay…and he actually seemed pretty nice after all.

"Hey," he heard Reg whisper in a deep voice, and so he turned around, and found himself face to face with the other boy. "Yes?" he asked sleepily.

He felt Reg reach out and rub his collar bone with the tips of his fingers, "You're so pale…" he said, "You look…so ghostly." He had moved his touch down to Charlie's ribs, tracing each one with a feather light finger. Charlie grunted, he knew that he looked gaunt.

"I don't know your name." Reg said.

Charlie snorted, after all this, he had never told Reg his name? "Charlie," he said.

The other teenager nodded. This could work. He had originally planned to set off on his own after he had escaped from Wilcox, but now that Charlie was with him, he was changing his mind. He could fix this person, make him healthy. He could take Charlie with him…wherever he wanted. Reg thought back to that afternoon in the car, Charlie calmly asleep on his shoulder. He could let this person in.

As Reg Kearny fell asleep, he had a light smile on his face. It was the first night in many years that he slept peacefully for eight hours.

In the morning, Charlie was gone. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Death Knocks, and He Answers

Reg threw off the cheap blanket that had been covering his tan body, and felt his nerves go haywire as his feet hit the carpet. The blonde stranger he had met yesterday, Charlie, was no longer next to him.

Without putting a shirt on, he strode to the door of the hotel room and swung it open with such velocity that the sound it made as it crashed into the wall would have awoken the neighboring guests if there were any, which there were not…except for decomposed bodies, and no earthly sound could ever stir them.

Reg squinted as the morning desert sun glared straight down into his eyes. The rusty station wagon was still sitting where he had parked it the day before. The dark haired teenager snorted. How dumb was Charlie, that he would try walking anywhere? He would starve to death.

"Hey."

Reg stiffened, and then slowly craned his neck around towards the direction of where the voice had suddenly come. It was Charlie. The blonde teenager was nonchalantly standing behind Reg, wearing only his God-forsaken leather jacket and a pair of briefs. His hair was no longer slicked back, but was now wet and fell around his face in bleach-colored twirls. In fact, his entire body was covered in a damp sheen.

"Did you know there's a creek behind this motel?" he asked with an amazed smile, "I mean, a creek in the middle of a desert? It's fantastic!"

Reg had not heard any of this. His vision was becoming blurry with anger, and he could not stop the rushing sound in his ears. He walked towards Charlie and grabbed the other teenager violently.

"Did I say you could leave the room?" Reg hissed.

Charlie stared blankly at the other boy, his mouth moving up and down like a guppy. When he had awoken that morning, he had decided to see how long Reg would be generous with his food before the dark haired teenager made Charlie leave. Perhaps that was not such a wise plan after all.

This silence seemed to only make Reg madder, "You…you ungrateful pig, I don't even know why I agreed to be your friend," he said with a dangerously low voice, his brown eyes sparking.

"Are you deranged?" Charlie replied with a half-snort as he tried to pull his arm away from the much stronger boy. The blonde teenager was pretty sure that Reg's grip would leave a bruise. "We never said we were friends."

Reg growled and slammed his fist into Charlie's stomach, making the gaunt boy double over in pain as the wind was knocked out of him. He should have run when he had the chance, this guy was clearly insane. As he gasped for breath, he caught Reg square in the jaw with an upper-hook shot. This seemed to stun the other teenager slightly, and Charlie was able to scrape Reg's hand off of his arm. He took several steps back, raising his fists as he went along.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he asked, as Reg just stood there, rubbing his jaw.

The other teenager's face had gone cold again, and his eyes were as hard as rock. "Nothing's wrong with me. You take my food, you sleep in my bed…I provided for you, and you did something without my permission."

Charlie's face scrunched with confusion. "So?" he said, "You don't own me."

Reg snorted. "I am the means for your survival, I am your Provider, you must always do what I say, and it's the rules after all."

Charlie was curious despite himself. "Whose rules?" he asked, backing away even more in case Reg decided to take another surprise swing at him. The other teenager was looking calmer, but his face was still a blank slate.

"The rules of Necropolis." Reg replied with a shrug. He was watching Charlie with confusion, wondering why this boy seemed so shocked by Reg's behavior. Perhaps he was a tad feeble-minded…

If it were possible for Charlie's face to get any paler, it would. As a child, he had heard of a place called Necropolis. His clan had told fireside stories of a place where all of the most ruthless people had gathered. The story was that they had electricity, farms and animals. They had petroleum.

"You're…from Necropolis?" Charlie breathed. He was terrified. What kind of horrendous acts would Reg have had to commit to be a denizen of the city of the dead?

"I was born there…higher order as well." Reg replied with an air of pride, "Weren't you?"

Charlie shook his head, "I was born in Berkeley, California," he said.

This news seemed to confuse Reg. What Charlie did not know was that all of the people born in Necropolis were told that the world outside was completely devoid of life. They were told that they would be hunted down and killed if they ever tried to leave, because they're beloved Providers would rather have their Charges be six feet under rather than living in the cursed outside world.

"That's impossible." Reg said quietly, "Anyone born after the sickness was born in Necropolis."

Charlie shrugged, "Whatever man," he was no longer curious, now he was just scared, "Look, I'm sorry about the whole room and board mix up, I thought you were just being nice."

Reg's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?" he asked, stepping closer to Charlie.

The blonde teenager felt his heart start to beat at a faster pace. "I'm saying…I'm saying that it's not right that you punched me for going outside, even if you gave me food."

"Why?" Reg asked.

Charlie blanched, "Because…you can't just hit people!" he yelled, his bright blue eyes growing wide with anger. His fingers had curled into fists again, but where resting at his side.

"I hit you because you did something without my permission." Reg replied point blank.

Charlie started laughing, and then began walking at a fast pace away from Reg. "You ain't in Necropolis anymore buddy, if you treat people like that out here, they'll either kill you or leave you," he shouted over his shoulder as he made his way to the interstate.

Reg watched him go, and felt blank inside. Charlie's behavior was so surreal that the dark haired teenager had no idea what to make of it. If he had done that to his Provider in Necropolis, than his hide would have been tanned in an open forum.

But wasn't that why Reg had tried to escape in the first place?

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Charlie had walked off to make a dramatic exit, but now he was strolling through the desert in a pair of black briefs and a fading leather jacket. He looked like the ghost of an Abercrombie and Fitch model. He smiled as he remembered the clothing catalogue he had discovered on a street in San Francisco. That black and white picture of a stunning male body was what made Charlie realize that he preferred looking at men as opposed to women.

In the New World, preferences were not really an issue, as people just liked having a warm body near them. However…if Charlie had a choice…

He had been walking for two hours. He did not worry about sunburn, because for some reason, the sun did not affect his pale skin. However, the bright rays still insisted on blinding him.

He felt a slight spark of joy when he saw the first outlines of buildings. This town looked bigger than Untolk, and Charlie hoped that there would be some kind of food there. Over the years, wild things had spread unchecked, and if someone were lucky, they would find a nice patch of berries or other edible plant life. However, Charlie did realize that he was in the desert. He wished that he had the forethought to grab some of Reg's food.

This thought dragged him back to the strange boy. There were so many questions that Charlie had. Why did Reg leave Necropolis? How did he know that there was electricity in that hotel room, or better yet, food? Why was the kid so bipolar? None of these questions would be answered. Charlie was glad that Reg seemed to be sane enough to let the blonde teenager walk away.

Charlie's stomach growled violently as he finally reached the town, bringing him quickly back to reality. A small and cheery suburb had surrounded it during the Old World, but now the rows of identical houses resembled a moat of dead shells. He would not be able to find anything edible here. Perhaps if he searched every backyard for a garden run wild, but he did not have the energy for that. His vision was blurring, and his head ached.

As he reached the downtown area, he felt his will-power drain away as well. Charlie had always believed that reaching Untolk would answer everything, make him feel complete. Now he found himself starving to death in yet another empty city.

He felt a cold fear in his heart. The street around him was dimming. If he passed out now, he would be left defenseless, and unconscious in the middle of the street. "Shit," he mumbled as his knees hit the ground. He wasn't awake to feel his head hit the pavement.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

He was completely naked. Charlie blinked several times as this first realization wormed its way through his groggy mind. He tried to raise his hand to rub his aching head, only to find that it was shackled to his other arm. The beginnings of panic were starting to set in.

He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the dark. It was cold and damp, he was propped up against a cement wall. There was a skeleton in the corner, it's smiling face tilted towards him. When he noticed the bars, Charlie knew where he was. A prison.

A small town prison with only several cells. This was not good. Charlie looked up when he heard a deranged chuckle emanating from outside of the cell. There was a man standing in the shadows. His features were hidden, however Charlie grimaced as the stranger started to tap a hunting knife against the rusted bars. The sharp blade glistened, and yet it was stained with blood.

Charlie tried to keep his breath even. "Hey, douche bag, let me out of here," he growled. The man chuckled again, and then said, "Meal is quite rude," with a cackling voice. He continued to tap the knife against the bars methodically. His fingernails were caked with blood and dirt.

Meal? Fuck. A Nosher had caught Charlie. The last time he had seen one; it was hanging by a noose. The Nosher had tried to take a child from Charlie's clan, and so the adults had quickly strung him up. If any law was held true by all clans, it was that Noshers must always be put to death. It was for the good of all, especially the animal who had once been human.

Now Charlie found himself in the company of no one but this insane creature. He shuddered as all of the campfire stories about Noshers ran through his head. One storyteller had said that the Noshers don't kill their meal before separating the limbs from the body, the meat from the bone.

"Meal is quite thin," the man said. Charlie grimaced. "Come on man," he said, "Just remember who you were, just let me go…" Charlie half sobbed.

The man was silent. He stopped tapping the bars, and moved into the light. His face was dirty and scarred. His eyes glowed with insanity, and his smile was a mile long. His clothes were messy and disgusting. He was virtually a walking corpse.

"I know who I was…" he giggled, "But I like this more." He slid the door to the cell open, and his breath trembled slightly from excitement. As he approached Charlie, he said, "I haven't eaten in so long…"

Charlie slid a dry tongue over his lips; his heart was rampaging in his chest. This cannot be how it ends. He did not want to be eaten. He felt a tear slide down his face as the man placed the tip of his knife against Charlie's naked chest. A thin red line streaked from his left side down to his belly button with the flick of the man's wrist. Charlie screamed bloodcurdlingly. The man was not just planning to eat him, he wanted to torture him!

"Reg…" he whispered.

Suddenly, and without reason, the man slumped over on his side. As the pain in Charlie's chest slowed to a mild burn, he realized that blood was now gushing out of the man's throat. The blond teenager looked up and gulped.

Reg Kearny was standing over him, holding his Swiss army knife, and wearing his Aviators. His expression was unreadable, but his mouth was pressed in a thin, unhappy line. "I was going to let you die," he said without emotion, more to himself than to Charlie.

He knelt down and looked Charlie in the eye, "But then you said my name."

Charlie stared back at him, his blue eyes wide with shock. "You fucker…" he said, "You were here, you knew he was going to kill me?"

"I don't owe you anything." Reg said with a shrug as he pulled the key to Charlie's shackles out of the dead man's pocket, and started to fumble with the metal around the bleeding teenager's wrists.

"Then why did you save me?" Charlie asked as he felt the cold cuffs fall off. He started to rub his wrists, glad that they were free. He looked back at Reg, who was studying him curiously.

"I already said…you…called out for me," he said. He was still kneeling in front of Charlie; his eyes were still invisible from behind the sunglasses. He had placed the Swiss army knife in his back pocket.

"I didn't mean anything by it." Charlie said, "I…was delirious."

Reg shrugged, although the corners of his mouth were pointed down slightly. Charlie looked over at the dead man as the realization that Reg had saved his life yet again sunk in. He started to shiver uncontrollably, and wished that his mother was there. She would always enclose her warm arms around him when he was scared.

Tears were pouring down his face, and as the salt mixed with his wound, the extra pain just made him cry more, a vicious circle. Here he was, completely naked and alone.

He reached out his arms like a child. This seemed to confuse Reg. "What?" the dark boy asked uncomfortably, shifting away slightly. This movement made Charlie feel stupid for supposing Reg would comfort him, and so he put his arms to his side.

"I just wanted a hug," he whispered as he tried to scramble to his feet. He did not want to be stuck in this cell with the dead man and Reg any longer. He stumbled past the other teenager, and found his way to the front room, hoping he would his clothes somewhere accessible.

His hands trembled as he realized that he was still hungry. His chest was bleeding, he was naked, and he had no food. Fantastic. He felt his legs wobble, and suddenly he pitched forward. As he was about to hit the floor, he felt two strong arms encircle his body. Reg had caught him, and was now holding him up, pressing the blond against his warm chest. Charlie's head rolled backwards, and rested against Reg's shoulder with exhaustion. He felt Reg lift him up and carry him over to a cot that was placed against the wall. Charlie vaguely hoped that it did not belong to the Nosher.

He sighed as his head rested against the pillow, and Reg pulled a blanket up to his chin. The dark haired teenager knelt once again, and placed his arms against the edge of the cot as he studied Charlie. "Is this really better than being my Charge?" he asked calmly.

"Your what?" Charlie asked obstinately. He was tired, and now he was afraid that Reg was going to start blabbering on again about how he owned Charlie. He was glad that the other teenager saved him, but really…Reg barely knew him, and acted like he hated Charlie, so why would he want to…keep him?

Reg sighed. "My Charge…" he said, "I would take care of you."

Charlie snorted, "As long as I ask for permission to walk ten feet away from you?"

"Is that such a bad condition…compared to this?" Reg asked with a small sneer, gesturing towards the cell that Charlie had recently occupied. This gave the blond teenager food for thought. Reg had access to food…and electricity. He had guns.

Besides, what else did Charlie have going? He had left his clan, Untolk had turned out to be a total bust. He could still ditch Reg if the situation got out of control. He could learn more about Necropolis.

"What does it mean…to be your Charge…what do you get out of it?" Charlie asked. This question seemed to make Reg smile, as if he found Charlie's naivety amusing and adorable.

"It's a status thing. Since I was born of higher order, I should have had more Charges by now…but I got a bit sidetracked," Reg said dreamily, "I always wanted at least three…enough to fill up a dinner table."

Charlie turned his head towards Reg, "So…it's like a family?" he asked.

"A what?" Reg replied. What a strange word. Charlie always said such odd things, but Reg supposed that was expected from someone who was born outside of Necropolis. The dark-haired teenager wondered how his status would be improved with such an exotic Charge.

"Never mind." Charlie said, rolling his eyes. He was silent as he pondered the situation. Why not?

"Fine," he said, "I'll stay with you." For now.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Don't Fear the Reaper

The desert had been arid and bleak, but as Charlie and his new acquaintance, Reg Kearny drove, the hot sand soon gave way to mountains. They had been moving at a steady pace for several hours without talking. Charlie's eyes had nervously flicked to the gas meter every half hour, watching as the needle slowly slid towards empty. He wondered what they would do when there was nothing left but fumes.

The gaunt teenager sighed and looked out the window. He guessed that they were headed north, but he was not sure where. Reg's expression had been a blank slate, mostly hidden behind Charlie's aviators.

"So..um…" Charlie said, deciding to break the silence. There was no reaction from Reg, and so Charlie decided to continue babbling on. "With this Charge thing, can I talk without permission?" he asked sardonically, hoping to get a rise out of Reg.

"Yes," came the clipped reply.

Charlie frowned, "Ok…then…can I smoke without permission?"

"Yes."

"Sleep?"

"Yes."

"Take a pi-"

"Shut up Charlie." Reg hissed suddenly. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, that his knuckles had turned white. After a moment of silence, he took a quick glance at the boy next to him. Charlie was staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a thin, angry line, and his leather-clad arms were crossed over his chest.

"Listen," Reg said slowly, with a tone that Charlie supposed was intended to be placating, "you can do whatever the hell you want, unless I order you not to."

The blonde snorted, "Then why did you hit me yesterday for leaving the room?" he asked. When Reg did not respond, Charlie looked over. The teenager next to him looked uneasy. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his grip on the steering wheel had not loosened.

"I…I'm not sure." Reg said with finality. He did not like where this conversation was going, and he did not want Charlie to ask him any more questions. He knew why he had hit the other teenager. He had been considerably mad that Charlie would have chosen certain death by leaving rather than staying with Reg. Even though that turned out to not to be the case, he still did not know how to resolve his anger…so he punched Charlie.

He would not apologize, Charlie was now his Charge, and Providers do not apologize to their Charges. He felt a slight upturn in his mood however, when he saw the next safe-point coming up on the road. He had been told to look for a mall in the town of Mertle, just on the border of Nevada and Oregon. He would find gas there, and spend the night. The last length of the trip would be finished tomorrow. "Are you hungry?" he asked the teenager next to him, without looking.

Charlie did not respond for a moment. "Yes," he said finally, deciding that it would not be smart to throw a fit around Reg. He had the feeling that the dark haired boy would not take well to mood swings.

As they parked in the lot adjacent to the mall, Charlie wondered how Reg knew where he was going, or if he even had a plan at all. He had known about the working hotel, so perhaps there would be food at this mall as well?

Charlie had guessed right. The second they had walked into the large building, through the Macy's entrance, Reg had strode straight to the "You Are Here" map. After perusing the faded floor plan for several seconds, the dark haired teenager made a small "ah-ha" and grabbed Charlie at the elbow as he made his way down the hall.

"You don't have to drag me." Charlie grumbled. He shook the stronger boy's grip, and kept the pace. Reg stared at him curiously for several seconds as they walked, and then returned his gaze ahead.

As they walked, Charlie started to feel an eerie sensation tingling at the back of his neck. The only source of light was what filtered through the grungy sky-roof, but something was becoming increasingly clear to the blonde.

"Why are there no bodies here?" he asked, looking over at Reg. There had not been a single skeleton in the entire building, in fact, it was relatively clean. The floor was devoid of dirt, and all of the mess created by ransacking years ago, had been cleared to the sides.

"Because," the other teenager replied. Charlie waited for him to continue, and then sighed when he realized that Reg would not give the answer that he obviously knew. The blonde teenager started to slow down, as he felt his muscles ache. They had been walking at a much faster pace than his mal-nourished body could handle.

Reg did not notice the other teenager lag behind him, and kept walking. When he suddenly realized that there was a coldness in place of where Charlie's presence had been, he turned around. There Charlie was, walking at the pace of an eighty year old. Reg sighed and walked over to the blonde.

"Are you going to pass out?" he asked gruffly. Charlie glared at him and snorted, "If you slow down, maybe not," he said. He lost all credibility however, as he started to sway on his feet. Reg sighed, and braced the other boy, holding on to his waist.

"We're almost there," he said with a much smoother tone. He had never met someone who was so physically weak. He was almost shaken by Charlie's tiny frame, and how easy it was to hold up the lithe teenager.

Finally they stopped in front of a mattress store. Charlie was no longer surprised by the fact that Reg would know where exactly the one working light would be. He could see the tiny lamp glowing in the distance. They slowly trudged by mattress after mattress, some still perfectly encased in plastic. When they reached the lamp, Charlie saw that it rested on a simple bed stand next to a mattress that was already covered with blankets and fresh pillows.

"This is…a little creepy," he said quietly. Reg snorted, and helped him on to the bed. Without saying a word, he walked back into the darkness towards the mall hallway. Charlie shrugged, and slipped his leather coat off. Lying down with a sigh of relief, he finally let the facts of his current situation swim through his brain.

First off, he was now following an apparent messiah to each habitable building in the country. Reg had known about the hotel, and now he knew about this mall.

Second, Reg was from Necropolis, a place that had only been an urban legend beforehand. He was being taken somewhere by a psycho named Wilcox, and Charlie had helped him escape.

And as a reward…Charlie was now his Charge…whatever that meant. The idea that he would spend much more time with this boy seemed unlikely, they never talked and Charlie got the feeling that he vaguely annoyed Reg. So why was the dark-haired teenager still dragging him around? Perhaps he wanted something other than conversation?

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed, and small frown graced his lips. He had never…done anything…with another person, but he supposed that Reg was attractive. He certainly was muscular…and healthy. Why not?

"There's soup and beef," Reg said suddenly, causing Charlie to flinch. The blonde teenager sat up quickly and smiled. The other teenager was holding a steaming bowl of food…fresh food.

"Where did you get beef?" Charlie whispered with awe as he took the bowl and the spoon that Reg was holding out to him. He dipped the utensil in, and brought it to his lips. He could have died right then. It was the first time he had ever tasted beef, not to mention beef stew, with all of its wonderful flavoring.

Reg did not answer the other boy's question. He simply walked over to the other side of the bed and crawled in as he kicked off his boots. With a sigh, he turned his head to look at Charlie as the blonde devoured the scrumptious food.

The blonde swallowed the last bite with a smile. He suddenly remembered why he even bothered with this ridiculous new adventure. Beef Stew was worth any crazy thing that Reg threw at him. He set the bowl down on the bed stand, and snuggled down under the covers. The pillows felt like his own private heaven.

"Are you ever going to answer any of my questions?" he asked Reg, staring up at the other boy, who was still sitting upwards, leaning against the headboard.

"It's not any of your concern," he replied blankly.

Charlie continued to watch the resting teenager. He was not going to push Reg. He had seen this boy…man…next to him kill several people in the space of three days. Of course, all of these people were dangerous…but still…

"Look Charlie, you're now in my protection, that is all you need to know." Reg said quietly, "Just as long as you don't run away, everything is fine."

Charlie bit his lip and asked, "Do you like me?"

Reg's eyebrows furrowed, and a small frown was etched across his face. Charlie wondered if his question had been over the line. The dark haired teenager did not reply to Charlie's question, and remained silent. This scared the blonde more than anything.

He had to keep Reg happy with him. The beef stew was still warming his stomach, and clouding his thoughts. Reg was the key to his survival. Charlie made a decision.

Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips against Reg's neck, and reached his arm around to rub the boy's opposite shoulder. The reaction was immediate.

"What the hell are you doing?" Reg shouted, sounding truly shocked for the first time as he shoved Charlie away from him. His face was contorted in anger. Charlie barely had time to answer when he felt the sharp sting of Reg slapping his face.

The room was silent as they sat there, still as statues. Charlie raised his hand to his burning face, and felt a dark despair seep into his heart. He could not see Reg's eyes behind the aviators, but he could tell that Reg was not ashamed of what he just did.

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, hoping that he could keep from crying. He choked on his words, and looked away from Reg. Thoughts of running away once again crossed his mind.

''''''''

The next morning, Charlie awoke first, and decided not to move until after Reg had gotten out of the bed. He was still embarrassed about the fiasco of the night before, and hoped that they would avoid any conversation with the violent teenager next to him.

Finally Reg shifted awake, and sat up with a sound. He nudged Charlie's shoulder with his hand, causing the blonde to tense up with fear, and jump away from Reg like a skittish kitten.

He did not really think as his feet landed on the floor, and he started to run for the doorway. Food or not, he could not live with this cold dread seeding it's way in his heart. 'Fuck it.' He thought to himself as he cleared the door to the mattress outlet, and started to jog for the exit to the mall. He hoped that Reg would not follow him, hoped that the other man had decided that it was too much effort to keep emaciated Charlie around.

He was wrong however. He heard the click of the trigger, and felt the reverberation of the bullet as it whizzed by his head, and crashed into the head of a Forever 21 mannequin, causing the plastic to explode into a million shards.

That was enough. Without feeling the usual fear for his life, Charlie swung around to face Reg.

"You tried to  _shoot_  me?" he hissed, his fists clenching on to the edges of his jacket.

Reg still had the gun pointed at Charlie, and his expression was cold. "That was a warning shot," he said emotionlessly, "If I had actually wanted to hit you, I would have."

Charlie snorted. "A warning shot?" he said hysterically, "A…warning shot?" He slid a hand through his blond hair, and felt that it was still trembling. "Reg…just let me leave."

"No." Reg snapped, a slightly irritated tone seeping into his deep voice, "You had the chance to go, and you gave it up." He placed the gun back into its holster, and walked up to Charlie. Without warning, he grabbed the blonde's wrist and started to drag him back to the mattress store. "Frankly, I'm getting tired of this," he growled, "The next time you pull this stunt, I will shoot you."

Charlie did not reply. Why was Reg doing this? What was the point of having a Charge? Apparently it was not for sex…so perhaps Reg just wanted a punching bag? Someone to scare the living day lights out of?

"Reg…" Charlie said, almost in a whisper. This seemed to give the other man pause, for he stopped, and looked at Charlie. "What?" he replied.

"You scare me." Charlie stated flatly, as his eyes lowered the ground. He looked up again when he felt Reg's grip on his wrist tighten.

"Charlie," Reg said slowly, "Sometimes I forget that you did not grow up in Necropolis, and you don't know the rules."

What did that mean? Charlie nodded, and did not reply. In his mind, he was already forming a new plan for survival. He would be quiet, and do everything that Reg told him to, and when the time was right…he would run.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

They had been driving for another two hours. Reg must have filled the car with petroleum while Charlie had been asleep, for the meter had returned to the full mark. The two boys had been on the road for so long, that Charlie once again started to wonder if Reg even knew where they were going.

The blonde jerked in surprise when the object of his thoughts suddenly spoke.

"Charges are not for sex," he said coolly.

Charlie blushed and looked down at his hands. "Oh…" he mumbled.

"Well!" Reg snapped, sounding awkward as he slid Charlie's aviators up the bridge of his nose, "It seemed like you were confused on that point." He coughed, and kept his eyes on the road, causing Charlie to wonder if he was actually embarrassed about their conversation.

Charlie frowned as Reg's words circled through his mind. It seemed unfair that he should be kept in the dark. If he had known that it was better not to kiss Reg, than he certainly would not have.

"Then tell me, what are Charges for?" he asked irritably.

Reg sighed. "They…they show the Providers wealth. The more Charges you can take care of, the more powerful you are," he said slowly. "Charges are just members of the Provider's House. They have menial jobs in the community, but they live under their Provider's rule."

"How does one become a Provider?" Charlie responded curiously.

"You have to be born into it." Reg said. He looked at Charlie, his eyes barely visible behind the sunglasses. The blonde was tired of being unable to read the other man's expression. "Since you do not come from Necropolis, you are a vary rare Charge."

Charlie nodded as if he understood the crazy explanation. He wanted to laugh at the whole idea of Providers and Charges, but he guessed that it would not go over well with Reg.

"Then…whom do Providers have relationships with?" Charlie asked quietly.

"Other Providers." Reg replied quickly, "They join households to become more powerful."

"Yeah, but that's a huge commitment," Charlie said with a snort without thinking, "Are you seriously telling me that Providers never have sex with their Charges?"

"Charges are beneath us." Reg said emotionlessly, "It would be shameful to have relations with them."

 

"Oh." Charlie replied. He was becoming more and more curious about this society. He had always believed that Necropolis was a fable, and now here he was, sitting in a car with one of its apparent higher citizens.

"So then…Charges are allowed to have relationships with each other?" he asked, "Like if I met another Charge that I liked?"

Reg did not reply. He stared silently out at the road, and slowly ran his tongue over his upper teeth, over and over. He had felt a twist of annoyance at Charlie's words, and he was not sure why.

"Yes…" he said finally, "That is allowed."

"Oh, great then." Charlie replied with a smile as he absent-mindedly stared out the window. At least his enslaved life would not be a sexless one.

"But…" Reg said suddenly, " _You_  can't."

Charlie's mouth slipped into a confused frown as he looked back over at Reg. The darker skinned boy was still pointedly looking away from Charlie, but his knuckles had turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

"Why not?" Charlie asked.

"Because I said so." Reg growled in a voice that meant it was the end of the discussion. Charlie did not take heed.

"That's not fair!" he snapped, "Am I just supposed to live like a eunuch?"

Reg shrugged. This infuriated Charlie, who crossed his arms and snorted. "I'll fuck whomever I want," he said with a self-satisfied smile.

This seemed to be the last straw. Reg hit the brake, and the station wagon screeched to a halt in the middle of the decaying freeway. Charlie felt his stomach turn to ice, realizing that he truly was an idiot, and did not learn from past mistakes.

Reg twisted around, and grabbed Charlie's jacket. His face was contorted in anger as he shoved the frail blonde against the car door and slid towards him, so that their faces were almost touching.

"You…" he growled. He stopped when he felt Charlie trembling in his grip. Reg sighed, and put his head down, so that his forehead was resting on Charlie's heaving chest. The blonde boy was warm, and his leather jacket was soft. Reg could fall asleep in this position; he could just curl his body against Charlie, and sleep for the rest of his life.

He looked up again, into Charlie's bright, blue eyes. They were calmer now. "Stop fighting my orders," he said with exasperation, "Just do what I say."

Charlie nodded. He could see Reg's eyes from behind the aviators. He looked tired, and upset. "Please Reg, just explain to me why I would not be allowed to have a relationship," he asked calmly.

He felt the other boy's grip on his jacket tighten, and hoped that his question had not driven Reg over the edge. He winced as the stronger teenager leaned forward slowly, and almost jumped in surprise when he felt Reg press his lips against Charlie's own.

He tried to move his head away, however Reg sensed this and brought a hand up to Charlie's chin to hold him steady. The dark haired boy pressed harder against Charlie, biting the blonde's lip to gain entry into his warm mouth.

Charlie was about to surrender to the moment, when he heard something. It sounded a lot like a car motor, which did not make sense considering Reg had turned theirs off.

Reg had apparently heard the noise as well, for he broke the kiss suddenly, and with a jerk, shoved Charlie under him, so that they were lying vertically on the bench seat, with Reg lying solidly on Charlie.

"Stay quiet," he hissed, but covered Charlie's mouth with his hand for good measure. The blonde could feel Reg's hard-on, and wondered how far the guy had been planning to go if they had not been interrupted.

They heard a car drive up next to them and stop. The engine was shut off, and they heard a door open.

"Reg?"

The boy lying on top of Charlie stiffened, and held a little tighter on to Charlie. He looked down into the blonde's eyes and smiled. "Charlie…" he said, "We're safe now."

Reg knew that voice. He scrambled upwards, and opened the car door on his side. Getting out, he turned to the man standing on the other side of the car. Charlie sat up just in time to see the man run around the car and grab Reg into a giant hug.

And then…they kissed. It was a mutual kiss, Reg was fully participating. Charlie felt what he supposed was jealousy, which did not make much sense considering he was terrified of Reg.

"Charlie?"

He glanced up to see Reg looking at him. "Come on out Charlie, and meet Hadrian," his Provider demanded with an even tone. Charlie nodded and scooted out of the car, stumbling slightly as his feet hit the pavement.

Standing up, he realized that he was at least a half a foot taller than Hadrian, however the man could obviously beat him in a fight.

"Hadrian, this is my new Charge…Charlie." Reg said with a proud smile, as if he was introducing a prize horse.

Hadrian nodded. He had a fake smile plastered on his face, and his gaze was calculating. Charlie immediately did not like him.

"Reg…" Hadrian said suddenly, completely ignoring Charlie, "We really don't have Charges at the Bunker…at least not yet."

Reg shrugged, "I don't care," he said with his 'end of discussion' tone, "He's mine, and I'm taking him with me." With those words, he had once again attached his firm grip to Charlie's wrist, as if he feared that Charlie would take this opportunity to run away once again.

Hadrian shrugged. "Fine," he said with an emotionless tone, "We should get back before they close the gate."

Reg nodded, and hopped back into the station wagon. Charlie quickly followed. Both missed the cold glance that he threw at the blonde.

"We made it Charlie." Reg said with a smile as he turned the engine on.

Charlie nodded. He was not sure how he felt about that.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Past the River Styx

"So…is Hadrian from Necropolis?"

Reg's expression was unreadable as always from behind Charlie's aviators. He had been silent since the moment the two had stepped back into the car. Charlie should have been used to the other teenager's penchant for hours of introspective thought, but he really needed to say something.

"Everyone is from Necropolis, Charlie."

He had said this so quietly, that Charlie wondered if he was even meant to hear it. "I'm not."

"Well, I don't know if that's true."

Charlie scoffed at the other boy's answer. Great, so now Reg thought he was lying, what brought this on?

"In fact Charlie, I know nothing about you."

Jesus Christ, that just made him angry. "Reg, that's basically the fucking general situation for both of us, don't you think?"

"You know where I come from."

Charlie really had no idea why Reg was suddenly mad. The other teenager had shown little to no interest for Charlie's origins in the past few days. It was as if seeing Hadrian sparked a curiosity in Reg that would not be put down.

"Fine." Charlie grumbled, "I'm from a small clan based on the California coast. We move up to Oregon sometimes, when it get's too hot."

"What do you mean by clan?" Reg had looked at Charlie when he asked this, as if he found it all very interesting.

"Well…there are a lot of clans…usually with about forty people. They're usually all related some way by blood…and then there are families within the clan."

"There's that word again…faamlees…what is this?"

Charlie tried not to laugh. Even if Necropolis were a bloody and sick place…they would still have the word 'family' floating around, right? Maybe it was just too warm and comforting.

"Family…the people you live with."

"So, Provider and Charges."

Charlie sighed. "No…like, the people you trust, care for. Your partner, sister, brother…parents." He looked at Reg, wondering if the mysterious boy was registering any of this. "The people you love."

Reg was silent again. His lips were passive, making it completely impossible to get any kind of reading. "Well then…if these people cared for you, than why did you leave them?"

Charlie nodded, he had guessed that this question would come up. "Reg, my family is dead. I never knew my father, and my mom died…"

Jesus. It had only been a year. Memories of his travels rushed through his mind, as he slowly tried to bury his mother deep in his heart. They had been well liked in the clan, but families were the closest and he didn't have any other relatives there.

"She died last year."

Reg looked at him again when he heard Charlie's voice crack with sadness. "Mother…Father…I don't know these words either."

"That's too bad Reg," Charlie whispered, looking down at his hands, "They're the most important thing…more important than anything." He closed his eyes, and felt a drop of water land on his palm. He was crying because he missed his mother, but also because Reg never had one.

"I will be your mother Charlie, if that is your version of Provider."

This time Charlie did laugh. He laughed as tears flowed down his face, and he felt relief from the heavy weight on his chest. "Oh Reg, you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Reg sighed, "No."

Charlie shook his head with amusement, and stared out the window. "Ok, then who raised you?" he asked.

"No one…teachers. All of the potential Providers grow up together in the School."

There were so many things that Charlie did not understand about Necropolis, but the more he did learn, the more he knew that he would never want to go there. No families, no mothers, no fathers. Teachers. It sounded so menacing.

"Where are we going Reg?"

"The Bunker."

Charlie wanted to yell in frustration. Why was Reg so open sometimes, and than suddenly cryptic? It's not like telling Charlie would change anything.

"Well then, what it the Bunker?"

"It's for the people who leave Necropolis."

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you said that no one lived outside of Necropolis."

"You do."

"Reg…"

The frustration in Charlie's voice seemed to amuse Reg, because the teenager suddenly cracked a tiny smile.

"Wait a minute…are you messing with me?" Charlie asked loudly, as his mouth started to slide into a grin as well.

Reg laughed then. "Charlie…we really were taught that no one lives outside of Necropolis…but someone, and I don't know who, decided that Necropolis had become too corrupt. They decided to leave."

The darker skinned teenager looked at Charlie, his visible expression serious again. "If you can find the right person, you can find out how to leave Necropolis, and once we build up a big enough army, we're going to take the city back from the Founders. The Bunker is where everyone who left is."

"Like Hadrian?"

Reg nodded, "He and I grew up together at the School. He was the one who told me about the Bunker."

"Then…why were you with Wilcox and those guys?" Charlie asked, as he remembered how he had met Reg.

"He had captured me as I was leaving. They were going to take me to the farms."

"Ok Reg, you know that I have no idea what you're talking about."

The other teenager chuckled, "The farms…it's where Necropolis gets its food. If you break any law, you're sent there to work."

Charlie's mouth hung agape. An entire city, farms…why had no clan ever ran into any of this? Did the clan leaders know to avoid certain places on the map? Why didn't they talk about it?

"We're here."

Charlie looked up, and saw that Hadrian's car had stopped. They were sitting outside of a small metal box that Charlie supposed could be considered a building…if a building was five by five, most of which was taken up by a door.

"And now we go down."

Charlie looked over at Reg with surprise. "So when you say bunker…you guys are being serious?"

"Completely."

Why do it? Why hide in a bunker? There were a million empty buildings everywhere, fresh air…the sun. As if he were reading Charlie's mind, Reg spoke, "You'll see why in a moment."

They got out the car, and Charlie shielded his eyes from the bright sun, wishing once again that he had the guts to just swipe his aviators back. He followed Reg over to where Hadrian was leaning against his car.

The shorter boy had a slight frown plastered on his face as he watched Reg and Charlie walk up to him, but this was quickly replaced with a fake toothy grin. "Well gosh darn Reg, you made it to the Bunker."

They both laughed, and grabbed each other in a hug as Charlie awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. He wondered about the relationship between Hadrian and Reg. They had kissed before…

"Let's go Charlie." Reg signaled for the other teenager to follow the two friends. The three boys walked quickly to the metal box, and stooped in. Charlie quickly realized that it was merely an elevator. What was this place?

Hadrian was watching his expression closely. Charlie met the other boy's eyes and kept the gaze. It suddenly occurred to him that Hadrian did not like him. He would have to watch his back around this guy.

"Nice jacket." Hadrian said as the elevator started descending with a loud clanking noise. Charlie was not sure how it knew to move, considering neither Hadrian or Reg pushed any kind of button.

"Thanks."

Hadrian's eyes sparked with malice. "It looks pretty old."

Charlie wanted to clock the guy. The three of them were huddled in a miniscule sweathouse, and this bitch was warbling on about his fucking jacket. "Well, there's not many people in the clothing industry right now, if you know what I mean."

This made Reg smile, which Hadrian noticed. He glared at Charlie as if the bony teenager had said something disgusting. He decided to return his attention to Reg. "Nice sunglasses man, it's pretty hard to find those nowadays."

Reg nodded, "Charlie gave them to me."

Charlie blanched at this statement. He totally did not give his beloved, priceless aviators to Reg. They had belonged to his father! Plus, Hadrian was now going to hate him even more. Thanks a lot, Reg.

"I see…" Hadrian said slowly, his voice going low with disdain. "I wonder how a Charge managed to find a pair of sunglasses."

"They were my father's."

He had said this so quietly, that he doubted that Hadrian could hear him. However, Reg had glanced in his direction.

Just as Reg was about to say something, the elevator came to an abrupt and violent stop. The doors slid open to reveal a sterile white, brightly lit hallway. The fake light hurt Charlie's eyes, and he had to squint for several moments. Apparently this was too long, because he felt Reg grasp his hand lightly, and pull him forward.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he tried to grasp his surroundings. The hallway was so pristine, so perfect. There was a functioning vending machine whirring halfway down. At the end of the hallway was a set of double doors.

What was on the other side of the doors could be labeled as insanity.

It was a lobby of a posh hotel. Everything was satin gold and red. There were several fireplaces, many plushy couches and ottomans. There were even some faded magazines strewn about on the coffee tables. They could hear the tinkling of silverware on plates, and people talking. There was a man standing at the front desk of the lobby.

"This is surreal…" Charlie breathed. He shook off Reg's hand and walked over to a coffee table, picking up a magazine. It was a Newsweek…the last one ever published. As he started flipping through it, Reg walked up to him.

"Look at this Reg," he started to say, only to be cut short as Reg tore the magazine from his hand and threw it on the ground.

"Don't touch anything." His eyes were dark. Why was Reg mad at him now?

Hadrian watched the interaction with some interest. He had noticed the confused look on Charlie's face. The blonde teenager wanted to know what was going through Hadrian's mind. Did he know why Reg was so bipolar?

"Sorry" Charlie said with a shrug. Reg nodded and walked back to Hadrian. "What is this place?" he asked. Ah, so Reg did not know everything.

Hadrian smiled, "It was where all of the rich people in the old world tried to hide from the sickness."

That explained the overall appearance of the room. Those people were so delusional that they had spent all of their money just to live underground for the last few days of their lives, instead of being out in the sun.

"It has great security," Hadrian continued, "It was built with the very best kinds of technology that they had then…it was made to be functional for at least one hundred years."

"Reg Kearny."

All three teenagers looked over at the man who was standing at the lobby desk. Charlie had forgotten that he was there. He was gesturing for Reg to come over to him. The teenager complied.

Charlie felt a pang of regret that he didn't follow Reg as he noticed that Hadrian was staring calculatingly at him. "What is your problem man?"

Hadrian smiled his fake smile. "I was just wondering how a skeleton like you managed to even meet Reg."

Charlie shrugged, "He was in a bad situation…I lent him a knife." He looked down at himself, was he really so bony that it warranted calling him a skeleton?

"Listen skeleton," Hadrian hissed suddenly, mad that Charlie had stopped paying attention to him, "Reg will be very busy soon, and won't have time for a Charge…so just stay out of the way."

"Fuck off." Charlie replied.

The second the words left his mouth, he felt a slap on the back of his head. "Charlie, you do not speak to your superiors like that." It was Reg. The other teenager had not hit him hard at all, but it was embarrassing to be chastised in front of that prick Hadrian.

Reg took a firm hold of his arm, and started to lead him away. "We have been assigned a room. They will bring us food tonight, but tomorrow we must start eating in the dining hall."

"Alright…" Charlie mumbled as he trudged along behind Reg. At least Hadrian was not following them. He really hated that guy.

The two teenagers walked down several more hallways, until they reached a door with the number 125 posted on the front. Reg turned the knob, and the two walked inside. The room was pretty basic compared to the outside lobby. It closely resembled the hotel they had stayed in before.

Reg sighed as he sat down on the bed. He pulled a cigarette out of his pants pocket and lit up, lying down as puffs of smoke escaped his mouth. Charlie watched him for several moments before deciding to sit down, at a safe distance, on the bed.

He could really use a cigarette right now.

"Charlie…am I your father then?"

Charlie smiled. Reg was so innocent in some ways. "No Reg...you would have to be way older, and related to me by blood. Father is not just a title…usually."

"But I have your father's sunglasses."

"Yeah…you do." Charlie was still slightly angry over this, and did not want to continue the conversation. He swung his feet up on the bed, and rested his head on the pillow. Maybe Reg would just let him sleep.

"Who is the master, the father or the mother?"

Or not. "Well…neither…it's an equality…a partnership."

Reg sat up and looked over at Charlie. "That sounds like when two Providers combine houses."

Charlie shrugged. He was tired of hearing about Providers and masters and Charges and anything that involved it being o.k. for Reg to order him around. He felt the clutches of sleep start to take hold, and was perfectly willing to give in when suddenly he felt Reg scoot towards him, sling an arm over his side, and grasp on to the collar of his shirt, as if for comfort.

"Did you notice how I didn't hit you very hard?"

Charlie sighed. "Yes." Reg seemed proud of this fact.

"You insulted Hadrian, so I had to make some kind of show…but you don't really know the rules yet."

"Nope…"

Reg scoot even closer so that their bodies were flush together. He flopped a leg over, so that he was fully cocooning Charlie with his warm body. "If you do it again though, Hadrian will expect a real punishment."

Charlie remained silent.

"So…just don't do it again."

He sounded like a child. Charlie found this side of Reg to be more threatening than the cold and calculating half. At least when he acted his age, he seemed sane…well sane for Reg. Whenever the other teenager acted like this, Charlie had the vague feeling that he was the boy's doll. The whole Charge thing was strange enough, but Reg was stronger, faster and healthier than Charlie…at least for now. If he wanted to harm the acid blonde teenager, he would not have much trouble.

"Sure thing Reg." He wasn't going to rock the boat tonight, not when they had finally reached their destination.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hadrian Hero's last name was given to him. His birth was commissioned by the Kearny family, same as Reg, however he was the second in line to inherit the House. Thus, he was not fit to carry the Kearny name. None of this mattered to him. Hadrian knew that Reg was more fit to lead, and he was content to follow.

Yet, it was Hadrian who met the woman from the Bunker. He was the one that gained the trust of the underground. He was going to turn this woman in, but something had changed his plans.

Ratting on a traitor would have earned him countless honors. He would have been given his own house, his own purse. He could have registered Charges under the Hero name.

This was not be. Reg had thrown a wrench in his plan during the eleventh hour. He had sinned against the laws of the Founders, and was disillusioned about the wonders of Necropolis. Reg tried to run. Hadrian stopped him. All of his scheming would have been moot point if the other teenager had left, and died on the side of the road somewhere.

Instead, he told Reg about the Bunker, and the woman who could get them there. He explained his plan of going ahead, and then Reg could follow, once the dust had settled over his transgression.

"He's here, Dura."

Hadrian Hero was now standing before the woman that he had planned to betray. Dura Jones was a Charge in Necropolis. Like Reg, her beauty had been troublesome. She had ethereal green eyes, and fiery red hair. It was after being raped by a Provider, and bearing a child, that she decided that a revolution was in order.

She and her son, Vespasian, had left Necropolis. They had no plan, and no food. It was by chance that Vespasian found a newspaper article describing a safe haven built for the world's elite thirty-six years ago.

Dura and Vespasian had found their base, the next step was to build their army. She went back to Necropolis, and started reaching out to Charges. That plan failed. They were scared, and thought that she was a Founder spy, looking for traitors.

So, she went to the lower Providers, the ones who would be angry with the system. They listened to her. Dura may have been a Charge, but she was beautiful and persuasive.

That was eighteen years ago. She was older, and wiser. Necropolis had grown worse, more corrupt. This only helped her as more and more people poured into the Bunker. All that she needed now was a leader they would follow into battle.

Hadrian Hero promised her such a leader.

"Where is he then?"

Hadrian shifted on his feet, "Sleeping, he had to escape from some raiders…he's pretty exhausted."

Dura frowned. "I need a man who can handle worse things than raiders Hadrian."

"He can do it," the teenager countered, "He just needs to learn how."

The stately woman nodded, her eyes narrow. "I shall speak to him tomorrow than." With this pronouncement, she waved Hadrian away from her office, which had once belonged to the owner of the Bunker.

"There is one problem."

She looked up again with disappointment. "Yes?"

Hadrian sighed. "Reg…is still…set in the old ways. He brought a Charge with him."

This news seemed to have no effect on Dura. When Hadrian had described Reg to her, she knew that the young man was perfect. She knew that the people in the Bunker were all still set in the old ways. They would let her run the cafeteria, settle small disputes, but they would never follow her to war. She was still a Charge.

It was even an advantage that Reg had one. The people would be comforted by the familiar. The Kearny name was the last piece needed for her plan. The people would follow him.

"Fine," she said.

Hadrian nodded, even as his mouth slid into a small frown, and his eyes darkened. Without another word, he walked out of the office. He would have to deal with the Charlie problem on his own.

Hadrian was so buried in his thoughts that he nearly went sprawling when he walked into a mountain of a man. Luckily, Vespasian Jones reached forward and grabbed Hadrian's upper arm in a vice-like grip.

Vespasian had not inherited his mother's looks. He was 6 feet tall, and had dark brown hair. His jaw was square and cut, and his eyes were a dark hazel. Hadrian despised him.

"Hero." The oaf usually spoke in one-word sentences, and it drove Hadrian insane, although it was probably better than if Vespasian were a chatterbox.

"What?" the shorter boy hissed as he jerked his arm away.

"What were you doing with Dura?"

Hadrian sneered, "Ask her yourself dumb-ass, I have things to do." He shoved passed Vespasian and started down the hallway, only to be stopped immediately by the oaf's irritatingly strong meat-hook gripping on to his shoulder.

"Hero."

"For Founder's sake, what?" Hadrian near shrieked as he turned around to glare at Vespasian.

He wasn't surprised when the lust filled oaf latched onto the top of his head, and jerked his face up. Hadrian nearly cried out from the pain, it felt as if Vespasian was trying to rip his scalp off. His distress was muffled however when the oaf mashed his lips against Hadrian's. It did not take long for Vespasian to slip his other hand down the back of Hadrian's pants, groping and grabbing as he went.

This was not the first time Vespasian had attacked him like this. There was nothing Hadrian could do to stop the filthy Charge, the man was built like an ox. He had tried to infer about it to Dura, but the woman had pointedly ignored him. He got the feeling that she did not like him anyway.

He bit down on Vespasian's tongue, making the giant retreat in pain. His next action was to shove the oaf as hard as he could, so that there was some space between them.

"Why did you do that?" Vespasian was now holding his mouth, as a few droplets of blood ran down his chin.

Hadrian lip curled with disgust. He truly hated this man. "Vespasian, how many times do I have to tell you? What we did before was a mistake, and it will never happen again."

Vespasian's expression clouded with frustration. "If I want you, I get you."

Hadrian shook his head. He did not have to listen to the unintelligible ramblings of this buffoon. "Reg Kearny is here now, and I told you it would end when he came."

Vespasian wiped his chin as he watched Hadrian stalk away from him. He had spent his childhood alone in the Bunker, and then the people who finally started streaming in a few years ago were old, and did not care about a teenager like him.

Hadrian Hero was young and virile. He was quick-witted, and at first, went out his way to charm Vespasian. He had introduced Dura's son to the pleasures of bodies intermingling.

"Reg…Kearny," Vespasian growled.

So, Kearny was the reason why Hadrian had dropped him like an old shirt. He wanted to meet this man.

He wanted to know what made Reg Kearny so special.

 


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Game Over …or Continue?

Hadrian Hero watched the leader of the Bunker refugees methodically lift, and lower a ten-pound hand weight. She had been at it for two sets already, soon to switch to the other hand. Dura Jones was forty-five years old, she looked thirty.

No matter her appearance, the woman had lived through hard times. As a child, she watched helplessly as her family succumbed to the sickness one by one. That her home was in the epicenter of the future Necropolis was no small issue. She never had a chance to live outside, in the New World, even though she knew it was there.

Hadrian knew none of this. People born before the sickness were silent about the Old World; they had to be for their own safety. Any topic besides the history of Necropolis was taboo. Dura was still ingrained with the habit of denying that she ever had a life before being a Charge.

"Physical fitness is key, Hero. If we want to accomplish everything that we've talked about, we need to make sure that the people here stay healthy."

The teenager nodded. "Perhaps if we let them outside …in small groups of course, so that they can exercise. They feel claustrophobic."

Dura chuckled lightly. "If you want to organize that, be my guest," she said with a doubting tone.

Biting his lip, Hadrian counted to ten. It angered him that a Charge would dare speak to him in such a way, but he knew that this feeling was an expired luxury. He could no longer divide people along the lines of Provider and Charge.

He remained stalk still, standing before Dura in her office. This was a common occurrence. Somehow, despite their dislike for each other, the two refugees had set up a stable alliance. Dura was a better leader, but Hadrian could speak to the former Providers without offending their sensibilities. They held a meeting every week to bring together Dura's ideas, and Hadrian's feedback.

"And what about Reg Kearny? When will he be active?"

Their plan had been simple. Dura was tired. She had spent almost two decades organizing a revolution, and raising a son. She wanted someone else to take the reigns. Hadrian convinced her that Reg Kearny was exactly what she was looking for.

He had been on the fast track to the Council of Necropolis, the ruling faction in the city. At the age of sixteen, Reg had already garnered favor among the elders, and built alliances with several of his more powerful peers. People genuinely liked him, and he would have been awarded his first Charge at his seventeenth birthday.

This, plus the fact that he was young, reassured Dura that the revolution would have enough energy to last long after her flame had been extinguished.

However, Reg's fall from grace had been severe, and unforeseen. Hadrian nearly failed in getting his Housemate out of the city …in fact, if it had not been for the skeleton Charlie that Reg was dragging around with him, the raiders probably would have killed him. Hadrian knew it was finally time to let go of his secret.

"Dura, there is something I need to tell you about Reg."

The stately woman glanced up at Hero's unusually cautious tone. "Yes?"

"Before he was taken out of Necropolis …he did something rather stupid." Hadrian's shrewd eyes observed Dura, trying to find any sense of doubt or anger. He knew that his position in the Bunker was always on a slippery slope. If the leader decided he was untrustworthy, than he would be ousted.

"Hadrian, you told me he was much loved. What could such a loyal citizen have done to be labeled 'rather stupid'?"

The teenager sighed. "He may have …attacked the head councilman's son."

Dura was silent for a moment, and than started laughing. "Is that all? That actually makes me feel better." She set down the hand-weight, and walked over to Hadrian. Brushing a strand of his hair away from his eyes, she said, "You are much too young to be caught up in political intrigue."

This was not the first time she had mentioned his age, in a wistful manner. No doubt she kept her own son out of the grand scheming so that she could protect him, but Hadrian knew that he himself did not warrant such motherly love. That was fine, no one raised in Necropolis even knew what a mother was. Just because he found out, did not mean that he needed one.

However, she was missing the point. "He didn't just attack this kid, Dura. There was no provocation, he just leapt out of his chair and started pounding on the guy."

Dura shrugged, "So he's a little violent. That will probably be needed." She circled back to her desk and sat down. "I want to meet him."

Hadrian nodded. "I'll let him know."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

A finger was definitely tracing down his spine. He had not been sure at first, thinking it was a dream. But no, this was, without a doubt, reality. Someone was brushing their hand along his back.

That someone was Reg. 'Who else would it be?' Charlie thought to himself, 'No one else slept in this bed."

"Are you awake, Charlie?"

Reg's voice was soft, and cautious. Like a child's.

Charlie did not respond. He was lying to on his side, his back facing the other teenager. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, Reg would leave. He breathed slowly, keeping his eyes screwed tightly shut. Without warning, the pressure from Reg's hand increased as he suddenly dug his fingernails into Charlie's pale skin.

"Fuck!" Charlie hissed, as he sprung out of the bed, his bleach blonde hair falling into disarray around his eyes. He swung around to face Reg, who was already on the other side of the bed, standing with his broad, mocha-colored back towards Charlie. "What the fuck was that?" Charlie breathed, stretching his arm around to his back to feel if it was bleeding.

"I was waking you up," Reg replied, his voice cold now. He turned around to face Charlie, "Was it too painful?"

The blonde teenager gaped at Reg's emotionless face; his gold-brown eyes were completely flat, calm.

'Shit.' Charlie thought to himself, as his ignored Reg and started pulling on his clothes. It was warm enough in the Bunker to go without his jacket, but he slung it on anyway. Who knew when he would have to make another run for it?

Reg seemed unaffected by Charlie's silence as he too started dressing. As he pulled on his red converse, he simply sat facing away from the blonde. Charlie watched as he mechanically laced each shoe, then grabbed Charlie's Aviators from the bed stand, and hooked them onto the collar of his dirty white shirt.

"Hadrian will give us new clothes," he said gruffly, turning back to Charlie.

Shrugging, Charlie looked away as he sat and slipped on his own shoes. He barely had time to tie one set of laces when he suddenly felt Reg grip on to his hair, and jerk his head up, so that they were looking straight at each other.

"Don't ignore me, ever." Reg hissed, his eyes dark now.

Charlie felt his rebellious streak rising up again as Reg glowered at him. He wanted to punch the arrogant prick in the stomach. He counted to ten.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his teeth locked together, his blue eyes alit with anger.

Reg's face once again reverted to calm, he loosened his grip on Charlie's hair, and then finally patted the top of the blonde's head amiably before backing away, mumbling, "He's learning, he's learning," as he went.

Charlie's heart was thundering. He could barely keep himself from trembling as he watched Reg revert back to getting ready, brushing his hair. It was almost as if the violent incident that just occurred had never happened.

That is when he noticed Hadrian standing in the doorway of their room. How much had he seen? Charlie stared openly at him, his mouth agape. The shorter teenager was smiling ruefully as he returned Charlie's gaze. His expression clearly said that he had witnessed the whole event.

"Reg, morning!" he said suddenly, never taking his eyes off of Charlie. Reg turned around, and smiled slightly. "Hadrian… what's going on?"

Hadrian brushed his hand through his sleek, black hair and sighed. "The holiday is over friend, Dura wants to talk with you."

Reg nodded, his face serious. "Is she ready to relinquish control?"

The shorter teenager paused. "Ah, well, of course she is delighted to have a high ranking Provider here, but …she has been building this revolution for years. She doesn't know if she can trust you."

Charlie listened to all of this curiously, as fear started to seep into his stomach. He did not sign up for a revolution. And what was this about Reg taking control? Who was Dura?

Suddenly, Reg turned to him. "Charlie, leave."

The blonde blanched, "Wha- what?"

Frowning, Reg repeated himself, "Go get breakfast or something. I don't want you here."

Hadrian was trying not to smile. The skeleton had been causing him worry, but obviously Reg did not care too much for him. If that had been the case …he would have had to take action.

Standing up without another word, Charlie walked quickly to the door and stepped out into the hallway. As he heard the lock click shut behind him, he suddenly felt very lost. He knew where the lobby was, and that was a start. Mustering together all of his nerves, he slowly treaded back to the glamorous room that had so shocked him the night before.

There he found no one but the man who held reign over the reception desk. He was wearing a bellboy outfit, and stood passively, staring into space. As before, Charlie could here the clinking of silverware from what he guessed was the dining hall.

"How many people live here?" he asked as he walked up to the clerk.

"Exactly 552."

Charlie's mouth dropped. "That's hell of a lot of people," he said, "Do you know them all?"

The clerk's face was blank. "Of course, it's my job." He suddenly pulled out a piece of paper that looked like a form, and clicked his pen against the desk. "However, I do not have you on record. What is your name?"

Charlie's eyebrows rose with surprise. "You need my name? I thought I was a non-person or whatever …a Charge."

The man did not respond, but rather stood there waiting, his pen poised.

Christ, was he robot? Why was everyone from Necropolis so verbally challenged? Charlie brought up his hand, snapping his fingers loudly in front of the man's face. "Hello! What if I don't want to tell you my name?"

Still no response.

"Fine. My name is Charlie Harlin."

The clerk's eyes flashed. "There is no point in lying to me."

Charlie shrugged, "Take it or leave it asshole, it's my name."

"No House employs the surname Harlin."

The blonde stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "That's right,  _I_  employ the fucking surname Harlin."

"There is no need to be angry at the clerk, Mr. Harlin."

Charlie stiffened at this new voice, a woman's voice. It was full of authority and calm. Turning around, he came face to face with Dura Jones, her full lips tilted up into a friendly smile. She was wearing a purple cotton dress that reached down to her knees, her feet were bare.

The blonde had never seen a fully nourished woman before, let alone one who spent so much time looking after her physical health. Her curves were shocking.

"You see," she said with a velveteen voice, "He has to keep a record of everyone here so that we know we are safe from spies." She walked forward and wrapped a gentle arm around Charlie's bony shoulders. "Tell me Charlie, where is your Provider?"

"Fuck if I care," Charlie spat, completely thrown by the woman's touch. She smelled like vanilla, and her eyes reminded him of his mother.

She chuckled. "You are rather crass child, although I suppose that could be a result of growing up in the New World." She turned to face him, and straightened out his jacket. "Why so much anger at Reg Kearny?" she asked lightly.

Charlie did not know if it was her similarity to his own mother, or just her gentle voice, but suddenly the floodgates were opened. He just had to start bawling in front of the prick lobby clerk. He let out the whole story in almost an unintelligible rush.

"I just wanted to see my mom's town, and then these crazy guys showed up, and Reg saved me …or I saved him. He seemed like he hated me, or liked me, I don't know! I tried to leave, but then a nosher got me, and Reg saved me again. But he tried to shoot me once! I can't seem to win…"

Dura was silent after the blonde teenager's emotional rant. "When you first met him …he seemed …smart?"

Charlie nodded, "And resourceful, and I felt like we could help each other. But then he started acting all…"

The woman smiled. "Crazy?"

Charlie hiccupped once, but remained silent. If Reg found out that he had called him crazy… he would be dead meat. "I don't know if I would go that far."

"Don't worry Charlie, this conversation I between you, me, and him.." she said, pointing at the clerk. Charlie glanced at the man behind the desk dubiously, and then lowered his voice.

"Do I really have to be …attached to Reg?" he asked, training his eyes on the rich carpet of the floor.

"You agreed to be his Charge?"

Charlie nodded.

"Then I'm afraid that's your lot in life, Mr. Harlin. Necropolisians take their laws very seriously. Especially a higher order Provider like Reg. I think it would be wise to just accept that."

The blonde could not believe what he was hearing. Weren't the people here in the Bunker trying to change those laws? It would suffice to say that he was rather confused. Plus, Dura had sounded so reassuring before, now she was casting him off.

"I need you to do me a favor Charlie," the woman said suddenly, smiling at Charlie's hurt face, "I need you to find my son, Vespasian, and tell him that I want him to meet Reg as well. You should be able to find him in the dining hall."

Nodding, Charlie smiled at her seemingly kind eyes. Her softness, not to mention her scent of vanilla was intoxicating. "What does he look like?"

This warranted a laugh from Dura. "He's the only teenager in there, believe me, you'll find him." She gave Charlie a little push towards the dining hall, and watched as the skinny youth trudged away, his hands still shoved into his jacket pockets.

Hero had not been too anxious when he warned her about this skeleton, Dura thought. The kid knew nothing about Necropolis; in fact he was half wild, barely civilized. But his last name, she had heard it before.

She looked over at the clerk, and said, "In twenty minutes, call Mr. Harlin and Vespasian out of the dining hall, please?"

The man nodded. Smiling, Dura thanked him and headed towards the room that had been assigned to Reg Kearny. Outside, she could hear voices emanating through the door. Hadrian was inside, of course.

"Reg, is it really safe to have a Charge right now?"

There was Hero, with his whining tone. Dura found jealousy to be the most reprehensible of emotions, but she was starting to wonder if that was the only reason Hadrian protested Charlie so much.

"It is my birth right to have a Charge, and what better than one born outside of Necropolis?"

Dura heard Hadrian sigh. "Fine, I guess there are bigger things to worry about right now. You need to keep your temper under control."

"My temper?" Reg's voice was softer now, completely innocent.

This was when Dura chose to turn the doorknob. Swinging the door open, she swept into the room. Hadrian glanced over to her in shock, however Reg barely looked her way.

"I thought I would take the initiative here, and introduce myself," she said with a warm smile. "Dura Jones, leader of the Bunker."

Reg nodded slowly, eyeing her. "Reg Kearny. Exile."

This caused Dura to pause. "Exile? Perhaps you don't even want to be here Reg?"

"That's not what he meant at all," Hadrian jumped in with an anxious voice.

Shrugging, Reg swiped his hand through his dark, curly hair. Dura was not impressed with his arrogance, but she knew that was what fueled successful leaders. Yet, she was taken with his appearance. His height, broad shoulders, and intelligent eyes were promising.

"We'll see," she said, her smile never diminishing. "Why don't we go out and meet Charlie and Vespasian for breakfast?"

This had the immediate reaction she was hoping for. Hadrian blanched, while Reg's eyes flashed briefly. "How… how do they know each other already?" Hadrian hissed.

"Who is Vespasian?" Reg muttered.

"My son. I saw the two of them hitting it off already in the dining hall. I guess they have a lot in common, growing up outside of Necropolis."

Hadrian gawked at her. Reg could not see it, but the shorter teenager knew Dura, and he could tell that she was lying through her teeth. She wasn't even trying to hide it from him, as she stared at him, her eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Yes," Reg said calmly, "I would like to meet your son. No doubt he is as impressive as you are."

Hadrian could barely contain his laughter.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Uh …Vest Asian?"

Charlie stood timidly at a safe distance from the hulk of a teenager. Dura had been serious, he definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

The massive man glanced up at Charlie, observing his ripped leather jacket, and pale skin.

"Are you a ghost?"

"Are you Vest Asian?"

They continued to stare at each other. Charlie shifted back and forth on his feet, never taking his piercing blue eyes off of Vespasian.

The dining hall was full of people, at least 200. The room itself closely resembled a high school cafeteria. Charlie had been shocked by the sudden appearance of a crowd, considering the lobby had been devoid of life …except for the prick clerk.

"I haven't seen you around before," the hulk said blankly. "What's yer name?"

"Charlie," the blonde replied quickly, he did not want to be caught up in another useless dispute about his name.

This seemed to click with Vespasian. "You came ere' with Reg Kearny?"

Charlie nodded, and sat down. "Are you Vest –"

"If you call me that one more time, I'm gonna rip yer head off," Vespasian muttered, "It's Vespasian."

Snickering, Charlie leaned back in his chair. "What kind of name is that?"

Vespasian did not respond. He was distracted by Charlie's overall skinniness. Not nearly as attractive as Hadrian Hero's well-toned body. That thought brought him back to the situation at hand.

"Tell Kearny to stay away from Hadrian," he grunted, glaring at Charlie.

The blonde's eyebrows rose. "You like Hadrian?" Is that even physically possible? He smiled. The fact that anyone could feel possessive of that rat was a miracle.

Before Vespasian could respond, the loudspeaker above them crackled to life. "Paging Charlie Harlin and Vespasian Jones. Please report to the lobby."

"Goddamn clerk." Charlie muttered darkly.

Vespasian was eyeing him warily, "How does he know we're together?"

"I told you, your mother sent me to find you," Charlie replied. He stood up and gestured towards the door with a nod of his head. "Come on."

The two trailed out of the dining hall, and back into the plush dining hall. As they looked over to the clerk, the man simply waved them towards a couch. Charlie sighed with resignation and sat down.

"Vespasian," he said slowly, "What are you and your mother planning here?"

"A take over of Necropolis," the hulk replied vaguely.

Charlie started to twiddle with the zipper of his jacket, his mind racing. "Like a war?" If it came to that, fuck it, he was finding a way out of here.

"I don't know," Vespasian said truthfully. His mother always kept him in the dark.

They both heard footsteps at the same time, and turned to see Hadrian, Reg and Dura walking towards them. All three faces were unreadable.

Reg was the first to speak. "Charlie, I said get breakfast, not whore yourself out to who ever you thought was most powerful."

This statement caused immediate furor. Charlie jumped up and glared at Reg menacingly. "Did you just call me a whore?" He snickered, "Do you even know what that is?"

"Do you know what loyalty is?" Reg replied coldly, his eyes narrowing.

"You are insane," Charlie laughed, "I was just talking to him."

The more muscular boy smiled slowly. "Is that so? I've been thinking about it Charlie. It's some weird coincidence that you were in the one small town Wilcox decided to stop in. In fact, I bet the whole thing was set up."

"What?" Charlie asked, his hands trembling.

"I think you're a Necropolis spy."

This was too much. Charlie bit his lip as he backed away from Reg. "You're paranoid. I didn't even know that Necropolis was real until I met you."

"Right," Reg scoffed, advancing on Charlie. However, Vespasian stepped in between the two of them, putting his hand against Reg's chest. His stance was intimidating, but Reg was no weakling. Without warning, he slammed his fist against Vespasian's cheek, knocking the boy down. As the giant buckled like a tree, Charlie's heart nearly stopped, for now Reg's cold eyes were trained on him.

He ran, again. This time there was no way out, so he made for the hallway. Stumbling as he raced down the corridor, he wondered if Hadrian would try to help him, or at least Dura. All he could hear were Reg's menacing footsteps behind him.

Finally, he hit a dead end, slamming against the wall at full force, and then sinking down to his knees. He felt a hot tears sliding down his face as he covered his head with his arms and waited for the blows to come.

Instead, he heard Reg slowly stalk towards him, and lean down. Grabbing the scruff of Charlie's shirt, the stronger teenager dragged the boy up to his feet without letting go.

Reg's black eye was fully healed. Why Charlie noticed that of all things at that particular point in time, he did not know. Reg was breathing heavily, his chest moving slowly up and down.

"Listen to me Charlie. I don't care if you're a spy, I have claimed you as my Charge. There is no going back."

He was silent for a moment.

"Why did you run? Why do you always run?"

These questions were said quietly, but calmly. Charlie wanted to ignore them.

"Answer me!" The grip on his shirt tightened, almost choking him.

"You know why!" Charlie gasped, "You're fucking insane, and I don't want to be murdered."

Reg let go, and backed away from Charlie. "I'm not crazy."

"You are," Charlie grunted, rubbing his sore throat. "You really, really are."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When Vespasian regained consciousness, it was Hadrian who was leaning over him, pressing a bag of ice against his cheek. "I can't believe he took you out with one punch," the shorter teenager said with a smile, once he noticed that Vespasian was awake.

They were in the infirmary. There were barely any medical supplies left, but the cots were still useful for something. Vespasian sighed, and rolled to his side, looking away from Hadrian.

"What?" the other teenager asked teasingly, as he continued to press the ice down.

"It was a cheap shot," the giant grumbled.

Hadrian burst out laughing, "Is that so?" he asked, as he reached towards Vespasian's stomach, tickling him.

The bed-ridden boy jerked away, trying not to laugh. He grabbed on to Hadrian's arm with a vice-like grip, and dragged him down on to the cot. Rolling on top of the smaller teenager, so that he was straddling him, Vespasian looked down at the other's dark-brown eyes.

"Vespasian…" Hadrian said warningly, trying to push the oaf off of him, "You're going too far."

"Why were you being nice to me then?" Vespasian retorted.

Hadrian was silent. Why had he been watching over the oaf? He did not have time to answer his own question as Vespasian leaned down and captured his lips with a passionate kiss.

The muscular youth was persistent, dragging Hadrian's shirt up as he continued to kiss the boy mercilessly. Hadrian tried to hold back the hand grasping onto his clothing.

Hadrian had to admit, it was hard to deny Vespasian. His lust was no small thing, and even though he always fantasized that it was not true, he knew that Reg would never really be interested in him.

But he had plans. Vespasian was a major obstacle to those plans. He also had to find out if Reg had eviscerated his Charge.

He quickly kneed the already injured teenager in the stomach, and shoved him away. Jumping to his feet, he looked over at Vespasian. "Find another hobby," he said matter-of-factly, and walked away.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Dura was leaning against the lobby desk, listening as the clerk was scribbled down something on yet another form.

Things may have not been going as planned, but that was fine. She just needed to regroup, plot a new course.

Reg Kearny was not a failure of course, but his potential was only half-baked. Now that she had an inkling of what was wrong with him, she knew how she could hopefully fix it.

"Tell me Stan, when you worked in the hospital, did they make any advances in psychological meds?"

The scribbling stopped. "Of course. Necropolis is fully stocked now. It was a major project."

Dura nodded, "Anyway of getting some of it out?"

The clerk furrowed his eyebrows. "That would possibly be the hardest task to accomplish. They keep all medications under lock and key."

"I don't doubt it…" The proud woman glanced towards the clerk, "Stan, find out how it can be done."

"Yes mam," the clerk replied diligently, scribbling more notes down on his papers.

Dura turned to leave, but paused, "Oh, and Stan?" He looked up again. "You were incorrect about something earlier Stan." She smiled, and tapped a finger against the forms.

"The surname Harlin has a long-standing, infamous reputation within the Houses."

 


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Roadkill

" _Had a dream, You and me and the war at the end times."_

_\- The Decemberists_

"What, you've never seen grapes before?"

Charlie looked up, ready to snarl back some response at Hadrian's smug tone. Instead, he shrugged and popped another grape into his mouth. There was no point getting into it with Hadrian. The less confrontations Charlie had with the shrimpy fucker, the better.

Not taking being ignored well, Hadrian dragged a chair out across from Charlie, and sat down with an amused sigh. "Well I guess that make sense, since you've been living like a savage your whole life."

So, Hadrian wasn't done trying to provoke him. "Can I help you?" Charlie asked, chunks of partially masticated grapes rolling around his mouth. Savage? He would show Hadrian savage.

"Yes, actually," Hadrian said, narrowing his eyes in disgust at Charlie's open mouth. "You can stop being such a coward."

Charlie felt a chill roll down his spine, and turned his face away from Hadrian. "He tried to kill me,"

"He did not!" Hadrian said, slamming his fist on the table. "And frankly, it wouldn't matter even if he did." Leaning forward, Hadrian smirked as he caught Charlie's wavering gaze. "Your safety is insignificant compared to Reg's happiness."

Clenching his jaw, Charlie fought the urge to stuff his fork down Hadrian's throat. He had hoped to find some peace in the dining hall of the bunker after his confrontation with Reg. The other teenager had a complete breakdown in the hallway, giving Charlie an out to run from him.

Dura had Reg sequestered to his room.

"If it's not me, he'll go ape-shit crazy on someone else," Charlie hissed.

"I wouldn't be worrying about anyone else," Hadrian said, "You're the nobody! You're the skeleton!"

He was standing now, screaming at Charlie as spittle flew out of his mouth. The few other people in the cavernous dining hall stared at the two teenagers as Charlie stood up to yell back.

"Then I'll leave!" he said, his blue eyes wide, "Give me some fucking food and water, and I'll leave!"

"You won't be going anywhere."

Both boys turned to find Dura standing behind them, arms crossed. She had dark circles under her eyes, and pressed lips. "I'm tired of this useless bickering, I know you two are young, but it's time to be mature." She stepped forward, and placed her hands on the table. With a lowered voice, she said, "Reg needs help, that much is clear." She eyed Charlie. "And I'm not going to risk what little rationality he has right now by letting you leave."

Charlie was about to protest, but decided to keep his mouth shut as Vespasian stepped up next to his mother, muscles bulging.

"I want you to go speak to him," Dura said calmly.

Taking a step back, Charlie shook his head in disbelief. "You must be joking," he rasped, color draining from his face.

The woman smiled, "No," she said, "I'm not."

"That can't possibly help," Hadrian cut in, "Let me talk to him!"

"Yeah, let him get killed," Charlie said, taking another step back.

Dura simply nodded her head at Vespasian, who walked around the table and grabbed Charlie by the arm. He dragged the teenager around the table, and towards the door.

"Don't worry," Dura said, walking along side them, "We'll make sure he doesn't hurt you."

When they reached the doorway to Reg's room, Charlie felt the blood run from his face. "You can't do this to me," he breathed, staring pleadingly at Dura. She seemed to waver for a moment, but shook her head.

"Charlie, we need you to calm him down, he's been screaming your name all night,"

Surprisingly enough, that didn't make Charlie feel any better. "He's fucking crazy!" he screamed, trying to scramble away from Vespasian's iron-clad grip. He felt the eyes of everyone in the hallway on him, watching him fight like a trapped rabbit. How could they do this to him?

"We shouldn't make him,"

Charlie looked at Hadrian with astonishment. The other teenager avoided his gaze. "I can't have my best friend killing someone if he's not in his right mind," Hadrian continued.

"For a second, I thought you were actually worried about me," Charlie said to him with a smirk, momentarily forgetting his predicament. He was quickly reminded when Vespasian suddenly shoved him forward towards the door.

Dura unlocked it, and turned to Charlie. "Don't think we're being cold-blooded," she said, "You just need to get me some clues as to what's wrong with him,"

With that, she swung the door open, and Vespasian shoved him inside.

Hearing the click of the lock behind him, Charlie cringed before surveying the room. Reg was lying on the bed, arm over his eyes. "I'm not saying anything until you bring Charlie," he said.

"Well, I'm brought." Charlie replied, rallying his nerves.

Immediately, Reg sat up straight, and jumped off the bed. Charlie had to fight the urge to run as the other teenager stepped over to him, and placed a hand on each shoulder. There was a moment of silence as Reg surveyed every centimeter of Charlie's face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Charlie blanched, and then swiped Reg's hands away. "No, but you could have." Narrowing his eyes at the other teenager, his anger got the better of him. "What go into you?"

Straightening his back, Reg cleared his throat. "Look," he said, "Sometimes I forget that you're not from Necropolis, and you're not used to the Provider-Charge relatio-"

"No," Charlie cut him off, "That's not going to fly this time." He leaned forward, peering into Reg's eyes. "You totally lost your shit, and I didn't do anything wrong. Even with that Charge bullshit."

He could tell that Reg was trying to control his temper. The other teenager was now clenching his fists. "You're right," Reg said, "I… overreacted, a little."

Charlie snorted, and stepped past Reg to sit on the bed. "A little?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Walking around to stand in front of Charlie, Reg crossed his arms. "What do I have to do to prove I won't hurt you?" He seemed serious. "I want to be a good Provider."

Charlie tilted his head up at Reg, and studied the other teenager's dark eyes and tan skin. "Why did you come here, if you still wanted to be a Provider?"

"I didn't have a choice," Reg replied succinctly, his mouth curving into a slight frown.

"So," Charlie said, "You don't actually believe in all of this freedom-for-Charges shit that Dura has been talking about?"

Reg didn't reply to this question, but instead took a moment to pace the room. "I don't know what I believe in anymore," he said finally, "The people I trusted voted to have me executed."

He stopped pacing, and returned to Charlie. Leaning over, he grabbed Charlie's pale wrist, and wrapped his large hand around it. "If you're my Charge, I can trust you. You have to obey everything I say."

His wrist was tingling, but Charlie kept himself from slapping Reg's grip away. "I already promised to do that!" he said, "I agreed to be your Charge, so you can't scare me like you did!"

More than anything, he wished he could turn back time. Never leave his clan, never go to Untolk. What stupid idiot would think seeing his mother's abandoned town would bring any answers? If he had stayed with his clan, he would never have agreed to be Reg's "Charge".

Is this what his mother meant, when she talked about people selling their souls to the Devil? Charlie had wanted food, he had wanted shelter. But in return… his life now belonged to Reg Kearny.

He felt a tug on his wrist, and looked up at Reg. "Listen," the other teenager said, "I said I was sorry!"

Charlie nodded, afraid to press Reg any further, no telling what would happen if the psycho broke. "Fine," he said, "It's alright."

He pictured Dura, Hadrian and Vespasian waiting on the other side of the door, probably wondering if Charlie was being suffocated to death or something. They must really think Reg is important if they were willing to send Charlie to his death.

Sitting down next to Charlie, Reg let go of his wrist. "Don't talk to boys alone anymore,"

Looking up with surprise, Charlie's eyebrows knotted together. "What?"

"You seem… preoccupied with sex," Reg continued with a gruff tone, "You kept talking about it in the car." He looked over at Charlie. "As my Charge, you're not allowed to flirt with anyone… especially that Vespasian guy."

"Are…" Charlie said slowly, "Are you calling me a slut?"

Reg was silent for a moment. "No," he said finally, "I just think you need to focus on learning how to be a good Charge before… worrying about stuff like fucking."

"Besides," he said, gesturing at Charlie, "Look at you, you're not healthy enough yet to be doing stuff like that."

He had a point. The food had been doing wonders for Charlie, but it still had been only a few days since he had been eating regularly. He was still stick thin, his bones jutting out at every angle. Still, Charlie was feeling better than ever.

"Fine," he said, "I won't flirt with anyone," He couldn't help a small smirk slide on to his face. "…until I get fatter,"

Reg snapped his gaze at Charlie, "Who would you flirt with?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Charlie snorted. "No one, ok? I won't flirt with anyone." It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to promise, but Reg was still on the edge. Charlie would just have to pretend for a little while.

He had to refocus the conversation. Dura was waiting for him to get answers about Reg's craziness, and all he had managed to do so far was practically take a vow of celibacy.

"Reg," he started off slowly, "Have you always been so… short tempered?" When he didn't hear an answer, he risked a quick glance at the other boy. Reg was staring at the ground with a tight expression on his face.

"No," he said finally, "People used to talk about how calm I was, for a kid."

"So, it's recent?" Charlie asked.

"Yes,"

"Do you just get angry?"

Sighing, Reg leaned back on his hands. "I guess," he looked over at Charlie, "You make me angry a lot."

"It can't just be me," Charlie replied. "Why were you ordered to be executed?"

Reg laughed, and shook his head. "Right," he said, "There was this asshole that I used to be friends with, he's a Provider too." His eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to remember something. "I can't think of why exactly I attacked him…"

"You attacked somebody?" It didn't seem that out of the ballpark.

"Yes," Reg said, "I attacked a councilman's son. That's worth an immediate death penalty."

"Did he live?" Charlie asked quietly, earning a dark look from the other teenager.

"I'm not a murderer," Reg replied with a snarl, although his voice wavered. "You didn't think I would kill you, right?"

Before Charlie could answer, Reg leaned forward and brushed a stand of blond hair out of Charlie's eyes. "Your my Charge, it's my job to protect you," he breathed, his fingers lingering on Charlie's skin as he stared into the other teenager's blue eyes.

Still, Charlie's first thought was that Reg's hand was too close to his throat. "I see," he said with a nervous laugh, standing up and walking towards the door. He couldn't look back at Reg as he knocked, and waited for Dura to let him out.

"Charlie," he heard Reg say, "Don't forget, you have to obey me."

He didn't respond as the door opened. Stepping through, he shut it behind himself, and stared up at the three people waiting for him.

"Well?" Hadrian said finally.

"I don't know," Charlie replied with a shrug, "I'm not a psychiatrist."

"A what?" Hadrian replied.

Charlie looked over at Dura, ignoring Hadrian. "What were you expecting from that?" he asked, not bothering to hide the anger from his voice. His little meeting with Reg had garnered nothing. Putting him in danger, risking his life… Dura had made him face Reg for nothing.

"What did he say?" she asked, emotionless.

"He just told me that I have to obey him," Charlie replied, almost cringing from how embarrassing the words sounded. What was he, a slave?

"That's it?" Dura said. She seemed unfazed by Charlie's embarrassment. "Did he say anything about why he loses his temper so easily?"

"He just said that it's a recent thing," Charlie replied.

Standing there silently for a moment, Dura seemed to be mulling over what Charlie had told her. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. "So," she said, "It's decided." She looked at each boy, "We have to go to Necropolis."

'''''''''''''''

"This is fucking stupid!"

Hadrian Hero was pacing back and forth in his room, occasionally throwing a book or hairbrush at the wall in anger. How dare that bitch Charge insinuate that Reg was crazy? She was the crazy one, saying they had to go to Necropolis for more information. What could they possibly learn there?

If he was caught in Necropolis… they would kill him on the spot.

"Damn it all!" he screamed, kicking his lamp, sending it crashing to the ground. Without warning, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, restraining him from causing any more damage to the room. "Let go of me, you buffoon," he growled at Vespasian.

"You're going to hurt yourself," came the calm response.

"Fuck off!" Hadrian said, trying to jerk away from the oaf's ridiculously strong grip. Instead, Vespasian picked him up and carried him over to his bed. With a 'thud', the taller teenager dropped Hadrian down on the mattress, and encased him with his arms.

"You don't have to go," Vespasian said.

"Are you a fucking retard?," Hadrian said, "Of course I do."

If they were going to go digging around in Reg's past… he had to be there to protect his friend's reputation.

"Don't call me stupid," Vespasian said, cutting into Hadrian's thoughts.

"You are stupid," Hadrian muttered. A stupid, fucking oaf.

"Well," Vespasian said, leaning forward as he gripped on to Hadrian's wrists with on hand, and brushed the shorter teenager's lips with his other. "I don't need smarts to do what I want with you."

He reared back in pain, as Hadrian bit his finger. "And I don't need to be a muscle-head to deal with you," he hissed as he kneed Vespasian in the stomach, and pushed the larger teenager away.

This time however, Vespasian didn't back down. He recovered, and shoved Hadrian back down on the bed. "Fucking savage!" Hadrian yelled at him, hitting Vespasian's broad chest ineffectually with his fists.

"Savage?" Vespasian said, "I like that," He pulled Hadrian's shirt up, and leaned forward to grab a nipple in his mouth, biting gently as he licked Hadrian's skin. Releasing, he looked up, "If I were a savage, that means I could ravage you without feeling bad, right?"

"Fine," Hadrian replied, "I'm sorry, you're not stupid."

Sitting up, Vespasian let go of Hadrian. "What will make you respect me?" he asked.

"Nothing," came Hadrian's terse reply. He winced as he felt Vespasian pinch him. "Ok!" he said, "I'll respect you if… you find a cure for Reg."

"Him again," Vespasian replied darkly, turning away from Hadrian.

Sitting up, Hadrian grasped Vespasian's face in his palm, and turned the larger teenager's gaze in his direction. "I mean it," he said, "If you find a cure for Reg, I'll do anything you want."

'''''''''''''''''''' ''' ''

Charlie tiptoed around Reg's sleeping form as he looked for his leather jacket. The orders had come down from Dura that he would have to go with Hadrian to find whatever information they could on Reg. She was hoping that since it was impossible for anyone to know Charlie, it would be easier for him to get around.

That was fine enough, but Charlie had no plans to go to Necropolis. As soon as he was free of the bunker, he would dodge Hadrian and make a run for it. The other teenager would be fine, he could just go back. Charlie would take their supplies, and the car, and he would find his clan. Hopefully they would welcome him back with open arms.

"What are you doing?"

He looked over to see Reg's eyes shining at him in the dark. The other teenager had sat up silently, watching as Charlie had blindly groped around the room.

"I'm looking for my jacket," Charlie replied. Honesty was key, right?

"Why?"

He paused, wondering what excuse he could give. Dura hadn't said to keep the trip a secret, but still…

"I'm going to Necropolis."

There was a moment of silence. Suddenly, Reg jumped off the bed and walked over to Charlie. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Dura asked me to go to Necropolis," Charlie said, "She thinks we can find something to help you."

Reg leaned forward. "Help me?" His words were almost inaudible. Trembling slightly, Charlie took a step back, only to feel Reg's grip on his arm. "Did I say I wanted your help?"

"Reg," Charlie whispered, "I'm doing this for you."

The grip loosened slightly, but the other teenager did not let go. "You're trying to get away from me, you liar."

Well, he was certainly perceptive.

"No," Charlie said, trying to sound convincing.

"Really?" Reg replied with a quirk of his eyebrow, "You're telling me that this isn't another ridiculous escape attempt?"

"That's right," Charlie said, trying to shake Reg's grip.

"Ok," Reg replied, leaning in so close to Charlie, that the shorter teenager could feel Reg's breath on his lips. "Then I'm going with you,"


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

"Remember that time we skipped class to go watch the Charges' basketball game?"

Charlie looked forward from the car window, and watched as Hadrian nudged Reg on the shoulder. He had one hand on the steering wheel, his head turned towards Reg, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Glancing back out the window, Charlie kept an ear open to their conversation.

"Arthur was fucking pissed, remember?"

"Who's Arthur?" Charlie couldn't help asking, turning his head again. His lip curled when he saw the triumphant smirk on Hadrian's face.

"He's the Kearny House originator," Hadrian said, "He's the one who commissioned Reg's and my births."

"Your dad?"

Hadrian frowned. "What?"

"A dad is a protector of a family," Reg cut in quietly, "he works with the mother to protect the sons and daughters."

It was Charlie's turn to smirk. "What, Hadrian, I thought you knew everything?" He gasped in pain suddenly, when he felt a sharp pinch at his thigh. Turning to glare at Vespasian, Charlie hissed when Vespasian simply looked straight ahead, ignoring his gaze. "Why do I have to sit next to this asshole, again?"

"Because," Reg said, "Charges are not allowed to sit in the front seat of cars."

"I sat in the front seat on the way-"

"Enough, Charlie. Just do as you're told."

Sitting back against the fake leather seat of the station wagon, Charlie crossed his arms as a blush spread across his face. He still wasn't used to being ordered around, and it was fucking embarrassing having Hadrian hear Reg speak to him like that.

When he caught Reg's eyes in the side-mirror of the car, he looked away.

"You shouldn't get upset," Reg said over his shoulder, "It's perfectly commonplace for Charges to be scolded."

Flushing red even more, Charlie looked down at his lap as he heard Hadrian chuckle. "That's right, skeleton, or did you forget that you're lower than us?"

Charlie ignored him, and moved his gaze back to the window.

They had been driving for little less than an hour, and already Charlie was ready to fling the car door open, and roll out. Pretty much the only thing stopping him was the pair of metal handcuffs currently locked around his wrists- courtesy of Reg Kearny. He had demanded Charlie put them on before the four boys had even taken one step out of the Bunker.

Yes, all four of them had come along for this joyride. Vespasian and Charlie were sequestered to the back, where they had inched as far apart from each other as possible. Hadrian took the wheel, and Reg sat next to him, quiet for the most part. Surprise, surprise, Charlie was the only one in handcuffs.

The desert surrounding them offered to no relief, nor escape for Charlie's harried mind. He couldn't think of any possible escape route, not with the car flying along at ninety miles per hour, and the hot metal of the handcuffs burning into his skin. He had tried to keep them out of the sun, but by midday, that was virtually impossible.

He turned to stare at the back of Hadrian's head. When Dura was detailing what Charlie would be doing in Necropolis, Hadrian had been sitting quietly by her side, without saying anything. Charlie couldn't tell if he was upset or happy that Charlie was being sent on this mission, but he certainly seemed uncomfortable.

"Charlie," Dura had said, "You have to understand, Reg Kearny is the highest level Provider that we've ever had join our cause. He's the destined head of the Kearny House."

What struck Charlie as a huge omission in Dura's little rah-rah speech, was that Reg had been banished from Necropolis, and ordered for execution. However, she didn't seem fazed by any of that. She was dead set on finding out if there was something wrong with Reg.

Charlie jerked, broken from his reverie when something landed on his lap. Looking down, he saw that it was one of the granola bar rations from the Bunker. "Eat it," Reg said from the front. Charlie took the granola bar, and started chewing thoughtfully.

His body was so used to starvation, that he worried what would happen if he allowed himself to get accustomed to all this food. If, by chance, he did manage an escape, it would be much harder to return to his previous diet of … nothing.

"Why are you making him eat all the time?" Hadrian said, keeping his eyes on the road. His voice was tight.

"I want to get him to a healthy weight," Reg replied tersely.

Charlie ignored the two boys talking about him as if he were livestock, and just tried to enjoy the granola bar. There were even blobs of chocolate in it, which he savored slowly, rolling them around on his tongue. Looking over at Vespasian, Charlie grinned at him when he caught him staring with a dubious expression.

"Do you like chocolate, Vespasian?" Charlie asked.

"Don't talk to him," Reg cut in, turning almost all the way around in his seat. He was looking at Vespasian. "If Charlie says something to you, ignore him." Vespasian nodded quietly.

"What the fuck?" Charlie spat out before he could stop himself. The color drained from his face as Reg's gaze slid to his. His hand was clenched on the headrest of the seat, his knuckles going white as he stared at Charlie.

"Excuse me?" he said quietly, his eyes flat.

Charlie wondered if Reg was about come flying over the seat to strangle him. Hearing Hadrian cough, he turned to look pleadingly at the rear view mirror, catching Hadrian's eyes. He sighed, looking at Charlie as he frowned. "Reg, calm down."

"You heard it," Reg said, still looking at Charlie. "He was being insubordinate, now you can see what I was talking about!"

Charlie glanced from Reg to Hadrian. They were talking about him?

"Yes," Hadrian said, with a calm voice. "He's rude, something that wouldn't normally be tolerated," he looked at Charlie as he said this, "but you said so yourself, Reg. He's not from Necropolis. He doesn't know the rules."

Charlie was frankly surprised that Hadrian was going so far to help him, but then Hadrian's words about not wanting Reg to become a murderer crossed his mind. It wasn't about helping Charlie, it was about keeping Reg from being violent. Well, how long would that last?

"So," Hadrian said pointedly, "If Charlie apologizes, it should be fine, right?"

Charlie took the hint. "Sorry," he said gruffly.

Still staring at him, Reg finally nodded. "Ok," he said, "but you can't use that excuse forever." He sat back in his seat, crossing his arms as he looked out at the road. Charlie narrowed his eyes at the back of Reg's neck, but glanced away when he noticed Hadrian looking at him through the mirror.

"""

He was dreaming. Charlie hated when he became self-aware in dreams. He knew that most people liked becoming lucid, but all he could feel was the foggy grip of forces beyond his control deciding what he was experiencing. Never once was he able to sway the direction of his own dream.

Willing himself to wake, he tried to ignore what he was seeing. It was his clan, centered around the giant bonfire they built every night in the center of the town they stayed in during the winter. Everyone was there, all the people he had grown up with.

There was an advancing darkness, blacker than ink, wiping out the light from the stars and the moon. It was floating towards the clan like a mist, but no one noticed. Charlie wanted to scream at them, but he couldn't even open his mouth.

As the dark drew closer, he saw forms walking in the mist.

They were walking with jerky movements, as if they didn't know how to control themselves. Trying to force himself to take a step forward, to speak, to do anything to warn his clan, Charlie felt the entire dream shake, and he knew he was losing his grip on it.

It felt as if he was being sucked away, moving farther and farther up from the scene. Just as everything was becoming too small to see, the forms moved out of the darkness.

They were skeletons, with bleached white bones and grinning skulls.

Walking in front of them was a figure riding a giant horse. He looked up at Charlie, the glint of the bonfire flashing in his Aviators.

"""

Charlie jerked awake, and nearly screamed when he found himself surrounded in darkness. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he counted his breaths to slow his thudding heart. There was nothing to worry about, he told himself, it was just night time.

"You've been asleep for hours."

Looking up, he caught Hadrian looking at him. He was fully turned in his seat, his chin resting on his arms as he sat staring at Charlie. The car was stopped by the side of the road, Charlie saw, and both Vespasian and Reg were asleep.

"What," Charlie said, his voice raspy, "No motel that magically has electricity?"

"It's not magic," Hadrian replied, "We set up those motels with generators for the people coming from Necropolis."

He seemed oddly subdued, and Charlie wondered if he had slept at all. "How much further do we have?"

Shrugging, Hadrian wiped his eye with a yawn. "I'm taking a longer route than usual," he said, "It's going to be hard getting there completely unseen, especially with Reg in the car."

"What about you? You're a Provider too, right?"

Hadrian snorted. "I'm a second-tier Provider, and I haven't been marked for execution."

Curious despite himself, Charlie leaned forward. " … They must have noticed your absence?"

"Charlie," Hadrian replied, a small smile playing on his lips, "I planned my exit from Necropolis very carefully. My House thinks I'm out in the greater territories researching new areas to start farms on." Sighing, he turned his head so that his cheek was resting on his arm. "I had to make sure I could go back in case Reg's escape didn't work out the way we planned."

Charlie smirked. "Which it didn't."

Snorting, Hadrian closed his eyes. "You're so unbelievably rude ... You have no idea what life would be like if you were actually a Charge in Necropolis," He opened his eyes again, to look at Charlie, "I've seen Charges whipped for less than how you've acted."

Blanching, Charlie fell back in his seat. "Whipped?"

"Insubordination is not tolerated," Hadrian replied, "Charges are expected to be meek and obedient at all times."

Looking at Hadrian and his tired eyes, Charlie wondered if he was trying to help. This was the first conversation they'd had that had yet to devolve into a shouting match. "Why do you always act like you hate me so much?" Charlie asked, "And why are you being … almost nice right now?"

"I don't trust you, Charlie," Hadrian replied, "and I don't care about you. I care about Reg."

That seemed fair enough. "There's no reason not to trust me," Charlie said, "Everything I've done has pretty much been on the up-and-up. I agreed to be Reg's Charge because there was no other choice at the time. I stuck with it because he had food."

Hadrian actually smiled at this, but the expression was passing. "I have a hard time believing that you don't come from Necropolis," he said, "Anyone can put on an act … and I've never come across a 'clan', or what ever you called them."

"Then there's no way for me to prove-"

"And," Hadrian cut him off, "I don't understand this obsession Reg has with you. There's absolutely no point in forbidding you from talking to Vespasian, and if it weren't so unbelievable, I might think it's because of sexual jealousy."

Charlie looked down, a slight blush creeping up his neck. He heard Hadrian breath in. "Is that it? Really?"

"No," Charlie replied, "... I don't know."

"Have you and he …"

"Hadrian!" Looking up, Charlie stared at Hadrian, inwardly begging for him to shut up. "I don't know, okay? I don't understand anything that Reg does. Sometimes I feel like he hates me." He held up his arms, the handcuffs clinking together at his wrists. "I mean, look at these. What do these tell you?"

"They tell me that he absolutely wants to guarantee you can't get away from him."

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "These won't be able to stop me."

"If I were you," Hadrian replied, looking at Reg, "I would keep my voice down."

Grimacing, Charlie tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling of the car. "You want me out of his life, right?" he asked in a whisper, "So help me, take these off so I can run."

"He has the key."

Charlie opened his eyes, and saw Hadrian staring at him with a small frown.

"And … I wouldn't anyway," Hadrian continued, "I'm sorry Charlie, but Reg seems to be relying on you for something, I don't know what, but something. I've never heard him sound so desperate as when he was screaming your name when we had him sequestered in his room."

Charlie snorted. "This is fucking ridiculous. Not even you, who has hated me since day one, will help me leave." They both paused as Reg shifted in his sleep. After a few tense moments, they relaxed.

"You agreed to this," Hadrian replied, "Most Charges don't even get that choice."

"Some choice," Charlie replied, crossing his arms. He jumped when Hadrian suddenly leaned forward, and grabbed his chin, jerking his gaze forward. Their eyes meeting, Charlie shivered at the hard look behind Hadrian's expression

"You should consider yourself lucky," Hadrian hissed, "You would have been dead without Reg, and you're lucky that it was him instead of any other Provider. Despite what you think, he treats you with kid gloves. If it had been me, I would have slapped you down the second you even thought of saying something rude."

Shoving Charlie back, Hadrian returned to his seat. "You don't even deserve Reg Kearny as your Provider."

''''

Charlie tried not to catch Hadrian's gaze in the mirror the next day. He was still burning with embarrassment that he had burst out in tears after their conversation. As he tried to shift his handcuffs out the sun again, he wondered if Hadrian heard him wiping at the tears, if he knew that he had made Charlie cry.

It wasn't that Hadrian had scared Charlie … no, he had been in far worse situations before, including his run-in with the nosher, and staring down the barrel of the gun Reg had pointed at him in the mall. One also couldn't forget his near-rape at the hands of Wilcox.

Hadrian slapping him paled in comparison to the other events Charlie experienced since meeting Reg Kearny. What made Charlie cry was the tone of Hadrian's voice. He actually believed he was doing Charlie a favor, that he was giving him some sound advice. Obey Reg, and everything would be fine.

Everything hadn't seemed entirely hopeless until that moment. If the most sane-seeming person he had met since coming to the Bunker believed he would be better off in Reg's hands, then Charlie was certainly a goner.

Vespasian's sleeping grunts broke Charlie from his thoughts. Turning to look at him, Charlie frowned. Vespasian never talked much, but Charlie had the feeling that everything about Vespasian was at the surface. He had a thing for Hadrian, obviously, and that seemed to be his driving force.

Wondering whether Hadrian knew how obvious Vespasian's crush was, Charlie turned back to look at him. Maybe this was something he could use as leverage? If Hadrian didn't want Reg to know …

"What are you staring at, skeleton?"

Charlie frowned. "Nothing." He would certainly be ecstatic to have something to hold over Hadrian's head, and he still wasn't quite sure whether Hadrian was in love with Reg or not. The possibility seemed likely, but there was also the chance that Hadrian was just extremely loyal.

Blinking when something hit his face, he looked down at his lap. It was another granola bar. He considered not eating it, but when he noticed the almost imperceptible turn of Reg's head, he quickly ripped the wrapper away from the bar, and shoved it in his mouth.

"I feel like you're fattening me up for the kill," he said between bites, grinning. "You guys aren't planning on eating me, right?" There was silence for a moment, and Charlie shifted awkwardly, letting out a nervous laugh.

"You're bone-thin right now, Charlie," Reg said, "I'm afraid I might hurt you."

Charlie tensed. "Hurt me? How?"

"You just aren't very strong, you need more muscle and fat. Not to mention, I think it would be uncomfortable if we tried it now."

Jaw dropping, Charlie blushed with mortification as Hadrian snorted. When did things change? Charlie wasn't an idiot, Reg had clearly kissed him in the car before they went to the Bunker, but he thought that was a passing … it didn't seem like something Reg wanted to continue, and now he here was, spouting off about Charlie gaining weight so they could have sex.

He turned his head to see that even Vespasian was grinning at him. When did he wake up? Did he hear the whole thing?

"Uh, Reg," Charlie said, "I thought Charges weren't for sex."

"They're for whatever the Provider wants them to be."

"I don't understand how you can be so point-blank about this," Charlie said, "Are you saying that you can just order me to have sex with you?" He looked at Hadrian. "Is that really a rule?"

"Charlie," Hadrian said, "Charges are the property of Providers."

Breathing out, Charlie brought his hands up to rub the bridge of his nose. They were lying … they had to be. Reg had clearly said Charges weren't for sex, why would he suddenly go back on that? Was he just making up rules as he went along? "This is too much …"

"I kind of agree." Charlie looked up, it was Hadrian who had spoken. "Reg, what are you thinking?" he continued, "We're trying to take down the Provider system, I want to know why you took on a Charge just as we're reaching the starting line with our plans."

Reg was silent for a moment, his dark eyes squared on the road. His black hair was blowing gently in the desert wind, and he was tapping his fingers against the side of the car door. Breathing out, he turned his face to Hadrian, but the corner of his eye was pointed at Charlie. "I'm not letting him go, Hadrian."

Gripping his hands into fists, Charlie swallowed, his mouth dry.

"What?" Hadrian said, but Charlie barely registered his surprised tone. He was trapped in Reg's gaze. "Reg, what do you mean?"

"Even if we do stop the Providers, I plan on keeping Charlie."

"As what?" Charlie cut in, leaning forward to shove the car seat. "As a fucking pet?"

They were planning on taking down Necropolis' caste system, but somehow Reg expected him to stay as some obedient slave? So that his life could be at risk every single day, at the mercy of Reg's volatile mood? "Fuck you, Reg," Charlie spat, "I should have split the first time I had a chance. You are fucking nuts."

"Shit, Charlie, calm down," Hadrian said. He was looking at Reg, who hadn't made a sound. In fact, he was completely still.

"Hadrian, stop the car."

Charlie felt his stomach turn to ice at Reg's words. "No, don't," he breathed, pushing back into his seat as if he could disappear into it. "Just keep driving."

"Reg, maybe we should-"

"Stop the car, now."

Reg's voice had lowered so far that it was barely audible. Charlie started trembling when he saw how rigid his shoulders were. When Hadrian started slowing the car down, Charlie felt a tear drop down his face. "Please, Hadrian," he said, his voice rising, "Don't stop the car."

He saw Hadrian's face tighten, but he didn't speed up. "Reg," Charlie said, switching tactics, "I'm sorry, okay? Of course I'll be your Charge forever, I won't … come on, Reg."

He was ignored, and he felt a wave of nervous bile in the pit of his stomach when the the car came to a stop. Turning to look at Vespasian, Charlie saw that he was pointedly looking out the window in the opposite direction. All Charlie could think about was 'Charges have been whipped for more'.

"Reg, please," he said, tears now streaming from his eyes.

When Reg stepped out of the car, Charlie covered his face with his hands, jerking when heard his door open, and a pair of rough hands grab his arms, dragging him out. His knees his the dirt, and he tried to scramble away, only to be pulled up and shoved against the side of the car.

"Reg, what are you doing?" Hadrian yelled, scrambling out of the car.

Ignoring him, Reg stood in front of Charlie, one fist drawn back. "Look at me."

Charlie kept his hands in front his face, his head turned the side. His legs were trembling so hard, he was surprised he hadn't fallen to the ground again. Pain emanated from his knees, and he guessed they had been cut on the small rocks and sand covering the road.

He could hear Reg breathing heavily. "Please," he sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

"That's the thing," Reg replied, "You keep saying sorry, but you keep doing the same shit over and over." There was a pause. "Charlie, I told you to look at me."

After a tick of silence, he felt Reg grab his wrist, and then drop immediately. "Fuck!" Reg yelled, "Why are your handcuffs so hot?" Reaching forward, he grabbed Charlie's wrist again, and held the metal. "Have they been like this all day?"

"We're in the desert …" Charlie hiccuped, thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. He looked over at Hadrian, who was watching from the other side of the car. "I can't keep them out of the sun."

Reg stared at him. "Why didn't you tell me?" He took a step towards Charlie, but stumbled. Grabbing Charlie's shoulders, who flinched at the contact, he forced eye contact. "How cruel do you think I am?" There was a glint in his eye that sent shivers down Charlie's spine.

Before Charlie could say anything, Reg doubled over, and fell to the ground. "Reg?" Charlie breathed, reaching down as Hadrian came running over. "What's happening?" Reg was convulsing on the ground, and then fell still. After a moment, he tried to get to his knees, but gagged. Charlie's eyes widened as he suddenly vomited, and then fell over on his side.

"I don't know … I didn't do this …" Charlie breathed.

"Just shut up," Hadrian hissed, "and get some water."

Hadrian's hand was on Reg's forehead, his face set in a worried frown. "What's going on Reg?" he said, trying to rouse Reg from unconsciousness.

"What's happening to you?"

 


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Toe Tag

"Reg— Reg? Reg, wake up!"

Charlie watched Hadrian pour some water over Reg's forehead, as Vespasian cast a shadow over all three of them. The dirt on the side of the road was digging into his knees, but he didn't move from his kneeling position.

Reg was pale, his usually light-brown skin faint. There was a slight sheen of sweat mixed with the water, and he was trembling, but he wouldn't open his eyes.

Biting his lip, Charlie looked over his shoulder at the car.

...It was still running.

"Don't even think it."

His gaze jerked back around, he found Hadrian looking at him with barely contained rage, his lip curling up. He was gripping Reg too tightly, his knuckles turning white as he stared at Charlie. "If you even take one step, I'll have Vespasian tear you limb from limb."

"Ok," Charlie breathed, his eyes widening. He sat back on his haunches. "Ok."

Nodding, Hadrian looked back down at Reg. Charlie nearly flinched when he burst out into a wracked sob. "What's wrong with him?" Hadrian said, "He won't wake up." He buried his face in Reg's chest. "Charlie … " he said, his voice muffled, "Get him to wake up."

Charlie watched this with growing numbness. He couldn't take his eyes off of Reg's prone form, but he also couldn't ignore that small spark of triumph in the pit of his stomach. Reg Kearny was not invincible— he was weak. All of those sinewy muscles, all of that bulk, meant nothing.

"I can't do that," Charlie said. "What could I possibly do?"

Hadrian looked up at him. "I can tell what you're thinking, Charlie. Let me tell you, he'll wake up, and you'd better hope you're right there by his side."

He didn't wait for a response from Charlie. Signalling for Vespasian, the two boys lifted Reg up. Charlie frowned when Hadrian nodded at the car. "What?" he asked.

Hadrian let out a mean little laugh. "What?" he replied with a mocking tone, "Get in the fucking car, skeleton. He's going in the backseat with you, and you're going to comfort him."

Narrowing his eyes at Hadrian's tone, Charlie crossed his arms. "Make Vespasian do it."

"Charlie!" Hadrian replied, sounding legitimately surprised. "Are you disobeying an order?"

"He was about to hurt me. You saw it, he was going to beat the shit out of me. Why the hell would I want to comfort that?"

Hadrian actually paused, but is was passing. He frowned. "It's not unusual," he said, "Remember? Charges get flogged all the time."

Yes, he did remember that. Quite well, actually. He also remembered the look in Reg's eyes as he drew his fist back. Charlie's fingers curled into his palms, as he stilled under Hadrian and Vespasian's expectant stares. "Fine."

Stepping towards the car, he slid into the back, and held his arms out. Hadrian carefully handed Reg over, and Charlie scooted down to the other side of the car until Reg was laid out on the backseat, his head resting in Charlie's lap.

"Be a good Charge," Hadrian said, bending over to look at Charlie after he closed the car door.

Charlie nodded, already carefully kneading Reg's temples. He seemed so helpless … well, he was helpless. He was unconscious, and all Charlie had to do was place one hand over his mouth, and close his nose with the other.

And then Reg would be dead.

He shifted his arms slightly, so that the burning metal of the handcuffs didn't touch Reg's skin. When he looked back up at the window, he saw Hadrian still watching him. "Ok," Hadrian said, "Ok." He stood up, and walked around the car to the driver's side as Vespasian fell into the passenger seat.

Only ten minutes passed on the road, when Charlie felt Reg stir. Looking down, he caught Reg staring up at him with dark eyes.

"Reg—" he began to say, only to pause when Reg reached up, and curled a lock of Charlie's blonde hair around his finger.

Reg opened his mouth, and a creaking, raspy croak came out. Charlie watched, knotting his eyebrows as a pained, and resigned expression clouded Reg's face. He shut his mouth, and turned his head to the side, but kept his hand in Charlie's hair.

When his hand started to slip, Charlie caught his wrist. His eyes jerked back up, and their eyes met. Charlie found himself frowning, but with a hesitant movement, he brought Reg's palm to his cheek. He felt his stomach clench when Reg slid his thumb against the skin. "Charlie … " Reg said finally, his voice raspy.

"He's awake?" Hadrian practically shouted from the front seat. "Reg, are you ok?"

"I don't think he can talk very well right now," Charlie said, letting go of Reg's hand. It fell from his cheek.

"Ok," Hadrian replied, breathing slowly. "That's fine. We're almost to the safety point."

Charlie didn't look down at Reg again, even though he could feel Reg staring at him. There was a slight shift, and his eyes widened as he realized that Reg had grasped on to his handcuffs. He tried to pull them away, only to have his arms jerked back. 'He's going to burn his hands,' Charlie thought to himself, his lips thinning.

'Well, he deserves it,' another part of him replied.

His jaw tightened, but he still refused to look at Reg. Fine, if he wanted to hold the burning handcuffs, than that was his prerogative. God forbid he just take them off so that neither of them got burned.

'''

"So, who actually put the safety points together?" Charlie asked.

He was knelt down beside Hadrian, watching as Hadrian fiddled with a rusted generator. It was dark outside, the burning desert heat finally breaking as a cool wind came in from the west. Charlie heard a coyote yowl, and sidled closer to Hadrian.

"I don't know, actually," Hadrian replied, his voice distracted as he cranked a lever. "Dura's spent years on this, like as long as we've been alive."

Charlie liked distracted Hadrian. When he wasn't blathering on about Reg being their inherent leader, or calling Charlie a skeleton, he looked like a normal sixteen year old boy. There was still a hardness in his eyes, but he was biting on his tongue as he focused on the generator, and he had rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, and somehow Charlie wished they had met under different circumstances.

"Is Necropolis really big?"

Hadrian stopped messing with the generator, and looked up at Charlie. "What?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Is it big," Charlie repeated, resting head on his hand. "Like, is it really a city?"

There was a small smile on Hadrian's lips as he considered Charlie. "There's a city," he said, "but that's like … the center. There's all these towns and farms surrounding it."

"Like a kingdom," Charlie breathed, his eyes widening.

Hadrian laughed. "Ok," he said with a shrug. "Whatever that is."

When Hadrian resumed working on the generator, Charlie watched his movements with half-lidded eyes, tiredness taking over even as curiosity sent his thoughts spinning. All his life, he had been told tales about the city of Necropolis, the city of the dead— that people gathered there at the end, and started something monstrous.

"Why do you and Reg look so different, if you're brothers?"

Hadrian once again stopped what he was doing, and looked up at Charlie. "What the hell is a brother?"

Oh, right. "Someone you're related to, by blood."

"You already know this," Hadrian sighed, "Our births were commissioned."

"But who actually … birthed you?"

There was a faint flicker of confusion in Hadrian's eyes, as if he couldn't figure out why Charlie was asking. "Well … they were women of the old times, which is why births from them are so valued." He leaned back, wrench in hand, as he looked up at the stars. "I saw Reg's once, in the park. Her name is Rishika." There was a thinning of his lips. "I've never met mine."

"So, they're like … royalty?" Charlie replied, carefully watching Hadrian's reaction.

"Royalty?" There was a pause. "If that means special, than yes. Rishika, Caroline, Tanya, and the rest of them ... they were all teenagers when the old world fell." He looked over at Charlie. "There's a huge uproar going on about it, actually. They're all too old to have anymore children."

"So?"

Hadrian smiled. "The council can't decide how the next generation of Providers will be chosen."

His smile slowly faded as he stared at Charlie, as if he was just realizing who he was talking to. Charlie could see the tightening of Hadrian's face, the closing off. He had learned all he was going to learn about Necropolis that night.

"Tell me," Hadrian said, "your turn."

"My turn what?"

"Where did you come from?"

Charlie cocked his head. "My clan," he said. "We're nomads—" he held up his hand as Hadrian opened his mouth, "—nomads are groups of people who travel with the seasons."

"How do you come up with all these odd terms?" Hadrian chuckled after a pause.

"By reading," Charlie replied. "The books never died. They're all still there."

They both stared at each for a moment, a amicable silence falling over them. After the silence extended on for several beats, Hadrian sighed. "Go to Reg," he said. "He must be lonely without you."

Charlie frowned, and Hadrian's eyebrow rose. "What?"

Shaking his head, Charlie stood up. "Nothing," he said quietly, and with a wave, turned around and headed for the motel room.

Hadrian was accepting him. He was acknowledging Charlie's presence in Reg's life. He no longer had that spark of hate, the cruel tinge to his voice. He was starting to see Charlie as a good thing for Reg, something that Reg needed.

And that alone felt like Charlie's death knell.

''''

Reg was on the bed when Charlie walked in, one arm draped over his eyes. When they had gotten to the motel, Reg had been able to walk to the room, so that at least had been a good sign. Charlie stepped closer, and Reg turned his head to look at him.

"Where have you been?"

Charlie tried not to glare. "With Hadrian."

There was a flicker in Reg's eyes. "He's a bitch-slut, he only takes it in the ass."

Jaw literally dropping, Charlie took a step back as his eyes widened at Reg. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed, "That's your closest friend you're talking about!" He watched in horror as Reg simply shrugged, and looked back up at the ceiling.

"I'm just saying," he replied, "Don't get you're hopes up. He's not going to fuck you."

Charlie dropped on the second bed, unable to take his eyes off Reg. "Shit," he said, "Really … what is wrong with you?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Reg," he said, "How can you talk about Hadrian like that? Do you know how loyal he is to you?"

"I know how loyal  _he_ is," Reg replied, his dark eyes sliding over to Charlie, "but listen to you, defending him. Have a little crush, do you?"

If it were possible for Charlie's eyes to widen any further, they would probably fall right out of his head. Reg was glaring at him with such palpable, impotent rage, that he felt like that would be enough to strike him dead. "You're acting this bad because you couldn't stop me right now if I wanted to fuck him, aren't you?" Charlie asked.

Reg snorted, and rolled around, facing the wall.

Hadrian's words about taking care of Reg echoed in his mind, and also the vague notion that Reg would eventually recover, and what then? This was the time that his survival instincts had to outweigh his pride.

Getting up from the bed, he moved over to Reg's, and crawled across the covers. He could see Reg's shoulders tense as the bed dipped. When he reached Reg, he put his hand on Reg's waist, and pulled him back around. He lifted one leg over, and straddled Reg's waist, bending over until their noses almost touched.

Before Reg could say anything, Charlie grabbed Reg's hands, and wrapped them around his neck.

"Do it," Charlie breathed, "Kill me now, that's the only way you'll be happy,"

He gasped when Reg drew his hand back, and slapped Charlie, the sound of skin hitting skin ringing out in the dark motel room.

"How dare you?" Reg seethed, his expression twisting as he glared up at Charlie. "I would never."

Charlie was holding his cheek, feeling the sting there as his stomach clenched. He tried to say something, but it only came out as a strangled squeak. He closed his eyes, and then tried again. "Reg," he said slowly, "What do you want, then? I will do anything, I promise. You just need to tell me what it is."

He felt a shudder travel up his spine, and he collapsed on Reg's broad chest, his face buried in the crook of Reg's neck. "Please," he whined, "I'm willing to be obedient, I really am."

There was a hand on his back. "I see that," Reg replied, his chest rumbling. Charlie winced when he felt nails dig in. "But you don't want to be, do you? You want to get away from me."

Charlie licked his lips.

"So?" he said, "Did you expect something different?"

Well … that's what he wanted to say.

"No," he actually said, keeping his voice at a weak mewl, "Why would I want to get away from you? You protect me, you've saved my life twice already."

He was trying to make his body as boneless and pliant as possible, and just kept breathing against Reg's neck. What else? What else could he do to appease Reg's madness? He started kissing the skin, nothing passionate ... more submissive little pecks.

"Yeah," Reg replied, panting slightly, "You'd be dead without me."

With him, without him. Charlie's untimely death was pretty much guaranteed.

"I would," he crooned softly, cradling Reg's cheek. "You're my Provider."

He knew that affected Reg more than anything else. His grip on Charlie's back had tightened, and he was slowly grinding upwards. "Shit," he said with a hoarse voice. His hand came up to Charlie's hair, and pulled his head up so that he was looking at Reg. "Come here."

Charlie overrode any urge to hesitate, and immediately placed his lips against Reg's, and let Reg violate his mouth with an urgent tongue. Unlike the time they kissed in the car, this made Charlie feel sick as Reg kissed him. He tried not to flinch when he felt Reg take Charlie's bottom lip in a mean bite.

Pulling back, Reg stared up at Charlie, his face flushed. "Hurry up," he growled, "Hurry up and get healthy so I can fuck you."

''''

Charlie rested his head against the outside wall of the motel. He was sitting by the door to his and Reg's room, and it must have been five in the morning.

It was past dawn, and the desert already had that unnatural morning heat, where logically it should still be cool from the night, but the sun had other plans. Charlie felt a drop of sweat line down his temple, and didn't bother to wipe it away.

He hadn't slept, and he had desperately wanted air. It took hours to work up the courage to dislodge himself from Reg, and when he finally did, he slipped outside, and slid down to the ground. He was so tired.

Tired of the desert, mostly. He wanted to go home.

He wanted his mom, and her reassuring weight. How could she leave him alone in this type of world? He was only sixteen. He wanted to cry in his mother's arms, not tremble submissively against the chest of some psycho.

With a sigh, he pulled his knees up to his chest, and buried his face in his arms. He thought he had been pretty resourceful up to that point, there were plenty of times where he certainly would have been dead. But, he wasn't dead— and he hadn't been flogged either, so there was that.

Yet … yet, he wouldn't ever be able to forget the image of Reg pulling his fist back.

This was the time when he had to strengthen his resolve. Reg was weak, for whatever reason, and he couldn't control Charlie. Charlie had to figure out a plan, come up with something foolproof that was a bit more complicated than just sprinting away at the first sign of insanity.

He stood up, and trotted down the line of motel rooms until he reached the motel office. The door was long gone, but the office was still pretty intact. The desk had piles of faded brochures, and he dug through them until he found what he was looking for.

It was a map.

He unfolded it. So, they were still in California. Somehow, knowing this made Charlie feel grounded, gave him a sense of things. He dropped his finger on the "You are Here" star, and tried to calculate what that meant. Untolk was down in the south, much farther down. They were travelling north in a pretty straight line. It wasn't that far to Oregon.

His clan would be east somewhere, probably way past Nevada. When would be the right time to break off from Reg?

There was a snap behind him. Stomach flipping, he looked over his shoulder.

Vespasian was standing there, staring at him. Staring at the map too. His eyes met Charlie's for a brief moment, and he nodded.

And then he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Yeah. So don't get excited. 
> 
> This story is up to twelve chapters, but on the flip side of that is actually I haven't updated it since 2012. I have quite a few things on my plate, but no this isn't abandoned. The thing is I started it in 2008 and it's definitely one of my stories suffering from growing pains. My eventual plan is to submit it for publishing after it's finished, but that would take a lot of fixing. 
> 
> You can find it [here.](https://www.fictionpress.com/s/2578150/1/Necropolis) I won't be posting any more chapters on Ao3.


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